


He Got Seven.  (and what he deserved)

by penink



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison WILL learn to be a good sister to Vanya I swear it, Allison and Luther of course, But doesn't get taken too far, Canon Typical Violence, Diego seems like the kind of lost puppy to still be trying to pull Klaus back, He calls their names, Luther is still a little dumb but this makes sure he doesn't become super dumb, Pogo and Grace have some interesting moral roles to play in this, Vanya is still very much alone besides some Five bro time, We know Five was closer with Ben and Vanya, and like major character death but that's the whole point, pretty self explanatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2019-12-25 10:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18259742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penink/pseuds/penink
Summary: a.k.a. the one where the kids decide to kill their dad before he can kill them.Takes place when they are 13 before Five leaves.





	1. A Warning Reginald Hargreeves Will Never Live To Hear

You were never their father. They called you that, yes, but you were simply a general and they were not siblings they were fellow abductees. Trafficked into the army of a lunatic. If you train killers and do not raise the children, you deserve a childish, murderous end. For all your intelligence and planning and power you could not have anticipated your downfall:

The fact that they were more loyal to each other - even with the cruel words and ruthless competition - than they were to you. Seven children all starved of touch and compassion and mercy clung to one another and saw pity in the brother or sister they did not understand. And those they did? Those they would die for. They would _kill_ for. You made sure of that. Just as you made your slaves - the ape and the machine - passive enough to let you die. 

Did you really think that by literally making the blood of the covenant thicker than the water of the womb you could get away with torturing them in front of each other? Somehow despite refusing to raise them you convinced yourself they would grow up to be just like you. Arrogant. Selfish. Unable to care about anything you couldn’t see in your ‘greater good’ tunnel vision. 

Just think of your favorite. You groomed him to be the perfect follower by giving him the title of leader. You taught him to worship anyone who was kind to him and you never saw him finding someone else to idolize? That hurting one creates a martyr, not a lesson? 

Still, you never taught them mercy. So you know not to expect it. 


	2. Ben.

Of all the people to first propose the idea, it had been _Ben_. Ben was tired of the killing. There were too many nights where he held onto a brother who had been pushed past the breaking point. A boy forced to disappear over and over again until he feared he would become a ghost. Another who feared ghosts for an entirely different reason and was numb because of it. One more death.

Ben first. Because their father’s numbers did not deserve meaning. He was not sixth. He was Ben. They were not their father’s order. They were not their father’s _orders_. 

Ben hated hurting people, but took his own suffering quietly. His father was disgusted by him, because of what lurked underneath his skin. That didn’t stop his morbid fascination which resulted in poking and prodding at his children even when it drew blood. They all suffered during their father’s experiments, hell, Klaus often spent the most time alone with their father trying to force some form of power out of him. 

Still, Ben seemed to bleed the most. 

“Stop crying, number six!” Their father always spoke to them with that harsh, barking tone. “Focus on control, otherwise we must continue practicing containment.” 

His father’s best understanding of Ben’s abilities came from a more biological standpoint. It terrified him, but the monsters crawling underneath his skin were still an extension of his limbs. His father’s work often involved scraping away flesh for examination. Or forcing him to release all the beings inside him even when Ben feared they would tear him apart from the inside out. These beings were a part of him but there was a point when it _hurt_. They were so wild and distorted that it was like they were trying to seperate themselves from his body. 

Reginald expected Ben to be able to control the beasts inside of him effortlessly. When that failed, the man bound his child with what could be called a brace. It was more so a cage, one that squeezed so tightly around his torso it became difficult to breathe, but at least the monsters couldn’t crawl out of his stomach when Reginald didn’t want them to, right? 

Control. It was always about control. 

Out of all of them, Ben was the hardest and easiest to control. He was docile, naive, and eager to please from the start. That naivety didn’t last long under Hargreeve’s cold eyes. Yet Ben could not stop the beasts thrashing underneath his skin any more than he could stop his father’s sinister attempts to contain them. 

Ben could deal with wandering back to his room on shaky legs after another private training session with their father. He could deal with an ache underneath his skin that always felt more raw after being forced to obey the will of another. It became easy to simply wash off the blood from his stomach, the rippling skin still angry from the hours of abuse, and try and forget the pain in whatever book he was allowed. 

Hargreeves could kill his innocence. And his belief that they were heroes was long dead, yet Ben’s empathy still tore him apart far more than the horrors that consumed his body. 

Ben just wanted to read. He wanted Klaus back so he could talk to him about comics instead of avoiding the almost hysterical, warped version that had slowly been growing inside of him. Ben didn’t know what terrified him more. The sober Klaus, who receded so far within himself in fear that he was merely a walking corpse or the high Klaus who was a morbid caricature of his former self. The self that had died after father started taking him away at night. No one wanted to know what occurred during those hours which left Klaus so… haunted. 

The Klaus that Ben knew was dead. A cruel irony. So Ben avoided him. Because Klaus actually was starting to frighten him. 

Just as his other siblings seemed to drift away from him due to their own mad drive to please. 

Five was still a friend. At least, Ben liked to think so. Five didn’t see Ben as a threat because Ben’s goal was not to succeed in his ambition but to merely survive. So in the quiet moments they could sit together. Talk about things that weren’t quite so painful. About books and Pogo and how annoying Luther and Diego’s bickering had become. 

Ben liked Five. Enough so that he could remain quiet and listen to Five’s furious rantings about how father refused to let him reach his full potential. Claiming that their father wanted to hold him back. 

Ben listened. Because it was better than being so lonely. Ben missed Klaus. It seemed the only one who hadn’t given up on their thirteen year old addict was Diego, who, when not fighting with Luther or seeking praise from their mother, would talk to Klaus. Tell him to snap out of it. To learn how to take care of himself. Sometimes Ben wasn’t sure if Klaus even heard him. 

Five liked to push himself. Their father liked to push him even further. Ben didn’t understand how Five’s abilities worked. Only that it took endurance like any muscle. So his private training sessions would take him across the mansion back and forth over and over. Through walls and across absurd distances, his father forcing him to change location on a whim. Ben didn’t know how Five’s powers worked, only that their father pushed him to the breaking point. How even when Five reappeared on solid ground he seemed to tremble and cling to the world around him as if terrified he would disappear for good. 

Five could never show weakness in front of the others. Ben was the exception. 

“You know you’re here, right?” Ben had asked. Five had remained sitting in the living room, his hands clutching the armrests with a grip that actually seemed to hurt. 

“I don’t know, Ben,” Five, who was stubborn and a little arrogant in his ambition seemed unsure. Uncertainty from Five was a sign of how damaged he really was. 

“You’re here. You’re not moving and you’re not gone,” Ben grabbed onto his brother’s hand. It was strange. Trying to convince Five that he was stable when Ben’s own skin was anything but. 

“I feel like I’m still scattered all over the house,” Five shuddered. “Dad only stopped when I couldn’t move anymore. Even then he was yelling at me over it. _Number Five, how can you hope to survive or develop your abilities if you are this weak?_. I’m not _weak_.” 

“It’s over now,” Ben felt sick. A different sort of nausea from the beasts writhing inside of him. 

Five glanced up at his brother as if he’d told a joke. “Dad said we’re gonna keep going tomorrow. Until I can do better.” Five’s nails actually dug into the fabric of the chair. “I think if I keep going I’m not gonna come back.” Five actually looked afraid. Terror unfiltered for the first time in so long. “I don’t know where I go between jumps. I don’t think I go anywhere, Ben. I think I’m gonna get stuck in that nowhere.” 

Something had been shifting inside of Ben for months now. Something besides the usual snakes. Now, that different sort of monster finally settled. 

“You won’t have to,” Ben said. The conviction seemed so foreign in the mouth of a boy who was always reluctant. 

Five seemed to sense the change. “Ben, what do you mean?” Father had said he would try again tomorrow, so he would try again tomorrow. 

“I’m _done,_ ” anger was a frightening sight. Especially when it rippled underneath skin. Ben wasn’t losing anyone else. He was tired of killing and watching his family die slowly. One more death. Then no more. “He ruined Klaus. The rest of us are barely hanging on and I don’t think he’s going to stop. He’ll push us until we’re dead.” Ben stopped, his mouth tasting almost like ash as anger turned to resolve. “Or he is instead.”


	3. Five.

Five was starting to think he hated his father. For a long time now the man was no longer a mentor and instead an obstacle. Five was more capable than his father gave him credit for. He was tired of being overshadowed by his brothers. By Luther and Diego. Always warring for the title of alpha male and refusing to actually make any progress.

And his father catered to them. Five was far more powerful. He would be able to time travel. It was just hard when his father pushed him with his spacial jumps to the point where he didn’t even feel human anymore. 

Five grew to resent the majority of his siblings just as he resented his father. Ben lacked ambition, but he wasn’t always trying to one up Five because of it. Vanya would never be a problem. And Five sometimes envied her because she was freed of the petty squabbling of his siblings. It was nice to talk to Vanya about how petty he found his other siblings and how narrow minded their father was. She was unbiased and shared his bitterness in a way Ben did not like to talk about. 

Sure, maybe Five was a little arrogant. Surely he deserved to be. He was smarter than all of them and had a drive beyond the Umbrella Academy. This was a mentality only a child could afford. When it hadn’t been beaten out of him by thirty years of solitude. 

“He treats me like a child. Like I don’t know my own strength,” Five vented to Vanya, who never had anywhere better to be. 

“But you _are_ a child,” Vanya said. 

“Vanya, we aren’t ‘just children’. You know that,” Five told her. He felt a little bad because out of all of them, Vanya was the only one who really was just a child. 

“But if dad doesn’t want you to do something dangerous…” 

“As if he would know,” Five snapped. “He’s just a man. I know what I’m capable of. If he would stop _pushing_ the spatial jumps, I could make some real progress.” 

“Time travel,” Vanya said the words with scepticism. 

“I can do it, Vanya,” Five refused to yield. Breathing a little heavily, he forced himself to settle. “What about you? Has dad even talked to you today?” 

“He hasn’t talked to me this _week_ ,” Vanya said gloomily. “I haven’t talked to anyone besides mom and Pogo today. You’re the only one who bothers to talk to me.” Vanya seemed to find this fact curious. “Actually, shouldn’t you be training or something? You guys don’t have a free half hour until dinner time.” 

“I’m supposed to be reading Gribbin’s,” Five admitted. Vanya looked a little confused. “Gribbin’s book on quantum physics,” he explained. “Dad actually thinks reading the theory is anything like actually doing it…” 

“What is it like then, Five?” It wasn’t the first time Vanya had asked something similar. She had a yearning to understand anything about having powers. 

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Five was a little dismissive. “I just am. And then I am somewhere else.” 

“You get tired though, don’t you?” 

Five’s already sour expression darkened. “If I do it too much, sometimes I think I stop reappearing all the way. Like something is left behind.” 

“Sounds scary,” Vanya spoke quietly. 

Five shook his head. “It’s not scary, “ it was. It really was. “-it’s a waste of time. I know how to do spatial jumps even if I can’t keep doing them forever, I should be-” 

“Time travelling,” Vanya finished dully. 

“Sorry. I know you’re probably tired of hearing me complain,” Five forced himself to settle. 

Now to distract himself with something besides their father. At least with Vanya it was usually something that held a shred of intelligence compared to his brothers and sister. Not that he could never get along with them, but Luther and Diego were too busy butting heads to focus on any real ambition, Klaus was… out of commission, Allison had ambition in a way Five would consider a waste of time, and right now Ben was having a private training session with father before Five would inevitably follow. 

“How’s practice?” Five asked, referring to the violin Vanya had put down in favor of talking to her brother. 

“Good!” For the first time in the conversation, genuine enthusiasm shined through her usual soft and gloomy disposition. She reached again for the instrument and flipped through a music book. “Sonata II. G.F. Händel. Part 1. Took me all month, but I finally can play all the way through without messing it up.” 

Five sat across from her, waiting expectantly. Vanya stared at him, looking a little puzzled by the attention. “Well? Are you gonna show me?” 

Vanya flushed red, seeming delighted and a little shocked that Five actually showed interest in her work. Five tried to ask about it when he wasn’t busy tirading against the rest of the family. Evidently not enough since Vanya was still surprised. 

Five would be lying if he said he understood music. Especially the way Vanya did. Still, he could at least admire the skill it took to navigate what merely looked like a bunch of strings to him. Five preferred logic to art. And sheet music and how it translated to life took its own form of language and even science that was otherworldly to him. Vanya took to it effortlessly. It was like she was physically connected to the sound. Five had inherited his father’s prejudice towards Vanya. They all had. She was ordinary, but when she played Five couldn’t help but respect her. 

“Number Five! Number Seven!” That harsh, barking tone was the opposite of Vanya’s playing, which stopped abruptly in the overpowering authority of Reginald Hargreeves towering in the doorway. 

“Number Seven. Stop distracting your brother with this nonsense,” Hargreeve’s nose wrinkled as if disgusted by his daughter playing the violin for her brother. “I expect better from you Number Five. You were told to read John Gibbon’s thesis.” 

“I finished it,” Five said defiantly. 

Hargreeves did not seem to find this worth his approval. “That is not an excuse for you lazy behavior.” 

“I read it. I understood it,” Five was tired of his father refusing to further his ambition and undervalue his accomplishments at the same time. Vanya reached out to his hand, trying to stop him, he yanked away and kept running his mouth regardless of the risk. “There’s nothing I can learn from it. _John Gibbon_ doesn’t have any idea what someone like me is capable of.” 

Five had spoken out of turn. Yet father did not shout at him. Accuse him of being a failure or an insolent brat who couldn’t survive outside of the mansion. Five had plenty of memories to theorize insults from, and yet none came. That alone was far more unnerving. 

“Come with me, Number Five. You’ll have the chance to make up for your behavior during your session,” father’s cold, empty tone was not at all preferable to shouting. He didn’t even pay enough attention to Vanya to scold her again for pulling Five away from his studies. 

Five stopped his protesting, more so focused on just getting this over with. Spatial jumps. It was tedious at best and exhausting at worst now. Father believed that despite the confines of the mansion Five should be able to change location at a whim with little thought. Father would map out the floor plan and Five would go to where he was directed and return to Hargreeve’s side to then jump to the next location. Back and forth. Tedious and exhausting. 

For hours he would never remain in the same place for more than a second. If he did it constituted as a failure. The only constant was the glimpse of the blueprint and the old man’s hand pointing to his next step. Sometimes, as each jump took some thought on where he was going, in his exhaustion he would make a mistake. More than once he would appear several feet higher than he had intended, or just close enough to crash into a wall. Teleportation came with far more bruises and scraped knees than one might expect. 

That part was not what made Five dread his training sessions nowadays. It was that his head would begin to pound from how quickly his environment changed over and over. His eyes would ache and the ground would seem to grow harder beneath him. His legs felt weak. Almost like sea sickness. 

“It took you 4.8 seconds to return from the greenhouse, Number Five,” father reprimanded his hesitation, that stupid monocle peering down at his stopwatch. “What took you so long?” 

“I just- I just paused for a second. That’s all,” Five snapped. 

He knew he couldn’t get away with giving his father this kind of attitude for long, but he was just so tired. He had entered, well, appeared in the greenhouse, which he hadn’t been to in a very long time, and had knocked his elbow against some stupid tent thing someone had constructed in the middle. That had been his excuse for stopping and cursing into the empty air. Really, it was just a relief to keep himself firmly planted on the ground for a moment. It hadn’t even been five seconds and his father was already judging him harshly. 

“Go again. Go from the kitchens up each floor until you return to the roof. You should be back by my side in less than the 4.8 seconds you have already wasted,” Hargreeves did not punish him with harsh words, but by crueler expectations. 

Five refused to show weakness. To tell his father that it was impossible. That was exactly the kind of statement his father would hold against him and exploit. It was evidence of Five’s worthlessness in this household. Five would not give him the satisfaction of another lecture. His hands balled into fists, that blue tinge that came with his jumps seemed to struggle to gather, and Five prepared for the first jump of, well, five, he was supposed to make before reappearing at his father’s side. 

First the kitchens. 

Five appeared just above the table there, falling the few inches to the table’s surface in a way that made his ankles hurt from the impact he was unprepared for. 4.8 seconds. Without even a millisecond to hesitate Five pushed himself to the main hall directly above him. Following, in his urgency, he didn’t think it through and again sent himself directly one floor above. 

Which was open air, several feet in front of the top of the stairs. Five choked back a shout of surprise and sent himself to the attics before he had the chance to fall the eighteen feet to the tile below. That passed fairly painlessly, if not a bit cramped and dusty. Then the greenhouse again, which was easy the second time. Feeling oddly breathless, Five brought himself back to his father’s side. 

The stopwatch clicked and it came with a strange finality that furthered Five’s dread. 

“5.63 seconds,” Hargreeves shook his head. “Sloppy work, Number Five. Go again.” 

Five wanted to shout at the old man. To tell him he was _done_. He was so shaky now. Surely his father could see it. Five would never give his father the satisfaction of begging him to let him rest. 

“Did you not hear me, Number Five? Go again,” their father was always particularly adept at barking orders. “Until you can do it under 4.8 seconds.” 

By the time Five had completed the task in 4.78 seconds - the kind of miracle that left the sceptic inside of him thanking whatever god he could - Five was certain he must be transparent. Perhaps not, but he was still ghostly pale and had a sickly complexion. 

“Passable, Number Five,” was his father’s only praise. “I expect more precision from you. You cannot merely go to a room, but exactly where I tell you to. Understood?” 

Five felt something die inside of him underneath muted horror. He wasn’t finished? His father referred to a specific point on the second floor. It was directly through the doorway across from them to the mezzanine which encircled the main living room. His father would be able to watch and ensure he succeeded. 

Five refused to admit defeat. The focus it took to teleport was usually natural to him. As easy as walking, if not a bit more deliberate. Now it was like he was chained to the floor. He stared down at his balled fists, teeth gritted as he tried to let the blue glow guide him across the room. It wasn’t quite that there was a wall around him, it was more like literally didn’t have the strength to move. 

“Number Five, you have your instructions,” his father seemed to be growing impatient. 

The words tasted sour in his mouth but Five couldn’t help but say them, “I can’t.” 

“What?” His father spoke as if he had just said something unspeakable. “You _can’t?_ ” 

“You heard me,” if Five hoped to catch a break, he should probably learn how to stop sassing his father. 

“Are you really that pathetic, Number Five?” Ah. Here come the insults he had initially expected. “You _can’t_ teleport six metres in front of you?” 

“No. I can’t,” Five spoke through gritted teeth, his jaw tense. 

“Number Five, how can you hope to survive or develop your abilities if you are this weak?” His father said the words harshly. “I’m done with you. We’ll just have to try again tomorrow. Dismissed.” 

Walking felt strange after hours of forcing himself to jump from place to place. Five wasn’t even sure he had the energy left to be angry. He left the table on the second floor where Hargreeves had laid out his maps and recorded his time. He headed downstairs, intending to put some distance between him and his father. He made it to the living room before he was certain his legs would buckle beneath him. Five collapsed into the nearest chair, feeling as if he might fall right through it and not stop. Five dug his nails into the fabric of the armrest, trying to find something to anchor to. His hands started to ache from how tightly he held on. Better than feeling vaporous in his own body. 

Ben looked equally exhausted from his own private training session that morning as he came over to his brother’s side. If anyone else had come into the room, Five would have put up that snarky facade that kept him safe in the eyes of his other siblings. With Ben it was easier. 

“You know you’re here, right?” Ben immediately knew what was wrong. 

Five stared at a smear of blood which had barely soaked through the shirt of Ben’s uniform. He didn’t seem to have noticed. 

“I don’t know, Ben,” Five hated that he didn’t have the energy to lie. 

“You’re here. You’re not moving and you’re not gone.” 

Five tensed when Ben reached out and grabbed onto one of his hands. Ben felt far more real to him despite that strange stirring always barely noticeable beneath his skin. Like a second pulse. 

“I feel like I’m still scattered all over the house,” Five tried to explain. “Dad only stopped when I couldn’t move anymore. Even then he was yelling at me over it. _Number Five, how can you hope to survive or develop your abilities if you are this weak?_. I’m not _weak_.” 

“It’s over now,” Ben tried to comfort him. 

Five bit back a sardonic laugh. “Dad said we’re gonna keep going tomorrow. Until I can do better.” Five didn’t even notice the pain of his nails digging into the fabric of the chair. “I think if I keep going I’m not gonna come back.” Five couldn’t remember it being this bad before. His father just didn’t know when to stop. The anxieties that had been nagging underneath the surface forced their way out. Anxieties which were quickly spiraling into real terror. “I don’t know where I go between jumps. I don’t think I go anywhere, Ben. I think I’m gonna get stuck in that nowhere.” Five dreaded a void where he was entirely alone. It seemed far too close. 

“You won’t have to,” Ben spoke and he didn’t sound like himself. His perpetual reluctance was replaced by something that almost frightened Five. 

“Ben, what do you mean?” Five asked cautiously. This was not something they could get away from. Their father’s word was law. It always had been. 

“I’m _done,_ ” Ben held far too much anger for such a small body. Although he had always contained more strength than he should. Five swore that Ben’s skin actually rippled like a wave. Unnerving. “He ruined Klaus. The rest of us are barely hanging on and I don’t think he’s going to stop. He’ll push us until we’re dead.” Ben paused. Five had a nagging feeling of where this was going, but he couldn’t believe it. “Or he is instead.” 

“Ben… are you serious?” Five asked it despite it being obvious that Ben had thought this through. Five asked another obvious question. He needed to confirm where his mind had immediately gone. First, a glance around the living room. They were alone. “Do you mean- do you think we should kill dad?” 

Ben’s eyes flickered to his, a cold conviction Five had never expected from the gentlest of his brothers. “I’ve thought about it over and over again,” Ben told him. “I don’t want to kill anyone else, but the only way that stops is if…” 

“Is if he’s dead,” Five felt himself adapt to the idea. That was the vital difference between Ben and Five. Between Ben and all of his siblings. This decision had haunted Ben for months. It still weighed him now. Five had turned in a matter of seconds. “We do what we have to.” 

Neither of them knew where to go from here.


	4. Diego.

Klaus wasn’t moving. Diego had been planning on ignoring his mess of a brother, had been trying to, at least, but Diego couldn’t walk away from his brother, curled on the bathroom floor, not moving.

“M-Mom!” Diego did the only thing he knew how to. He ran down the hall to where his mother was collecting the laundry. 

“Diego!” His mother stopped, looking at him quizzically. “Are you alright?” 

“It’s Klaus- He isn’t moving and I tried shaking him but he won’t wake up. But his eyes are open, I d-don’t know what to do,” Diego held onto his mother’s arm, pulling at it despite his childlike strength in no way capable of moving the woman made of metal. 

“Don’t worry, dear, just take me to him,” if Grace was concerned, she didn’t show it. Upon finding Klaus, she knelt down and began checking him over. “Diego, would you please go downstairs to the infirmary and get my bag?” 

Diego, not trusting himself to speak, merely nodded and ran downstairs, past his father and - every other second - also Five, and went into the infirmary, grabbing the little white bag with the red cross his mother kept there. 

“Thank you, darling,” Grace said upon his return. She pulled out a tiny bottle and uncorked it, waving it underneath Klaus’s nose. Klaus blinked, cringing at whatever scent had come from the bottle. “Klaus? Honey, are you feeling okay?” 

“Never better,” Klaus said, his voice a little hoarse. 

“You’re eyes are very dilated, dear,” Grace said sceptically. Her hand pressed into his forehead. “You have a fever of 100.2.” 

“I’m fine, mother,” Klaus sat up, but he still looked really out of it. 

“Maybe I should get your father-” 

“No,” both Klaus and Diego said that immediately. 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Grace stood. “How about I go put together a snack. Would you like some tea, Klaus? Until you’re feeling better?” Either Grace’s programming did not include medical care for someone who was high as a kite or there really wasn’t anything she could do. 

“It’s okay, mom,” Klaus said with a grin. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Grace gently brushed against his cheek, “well, if you’re sure.” There was more to it. Grace just kept her anxieties far away from her expressions. She moved to leave, pausing only to put a hand on Diego’s shoulder. “Are you feeling well, Diego? You look a little flushed.” 

“I’m okay, mom, thanks for trying to help,” Diego said. He was grateful that she hadn’t tried to get their father. If he had, he would’ve not only been angry at Klaus, but angry at her for wasting his time. Sometimes it terrified Diego how expendable she was to father. He couldn’t afford to lose her. And he didn’t think Klaus could afford any more anger from father either. 

Once they were alone, Diego’s fondness for their mom was replaced by anger towards his brother. “What did you take?” He said sharply. 

Klaus got to his feet on sort of shaky legs and headed past his brother into the hall. He shrugged. “I dunno.” 

Diego was only made more angry because he didn’t think Klaus was lying. “Are you kidding me?” He spat. “You _don’t know?_ ” 

“No, not really. It isn’t too bad, whatever it was,” Klaus said with a giggle that left Diego oddly disgusted. 

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Diego said, cutting Klaus off before he could go downstairs. Klaus shrugged again and moved past him, utterly apathetic. “I thought you smoking weed was bad, but I’ve seen the shit you bring home now.” 

“What’s it to you, Diego?” Klaus kept walking, shuffling his feet. He didn’t seem to know where he was going any more than Diego did. 

“What’s it to me?” Diego snapped, still following close behind. “Yesterday mom asked dad if he would take you to the doctor. I don’t even think she knows that you’re not sick. Well, not sick in the way she thinks. She keeps on hovering over you and it’s pissing dad off. Dad said he might have to fix her. Said she was getting too weak when it came to dealing with us.” 

“So what?” Klaus said. 

Diego grabbed his brother by the scruff of his shirt and slammed him into the wall. Klaus was taller, but Diego was pissed off. And growing more and more afraid. “So who knows what that would do to her? You-You know she isn’t just some machine. Last time dad reprogrammed her s-she forgot about us.” Diego couldn’t afford to lose her again. 

Klaus was laughing almost hysterically at his brother’s aggression. “She remembered. You’re stuttering again, Diego. I thought you were doing a little better. Mom was helping you, right?” He was too high to have a filter. 

“K-Klaus, what did you take?” Diego said through gritted teeth. 

Klaus shrugged again, staring lucidly at something over Diego’s head. “Pill. A few pills.” 

“ _P-Pills?_ ” Diego was getting scared. Smoking a joint was one thing, taking pills was another. “H-How many?” 

“A few,” Klaus didn’t even try to get his brother off of him, he merely let Diego hold him there, limp against the wall. 

“Where did you even get them?” Diego asked. 

Klaus finally looked him in the eyes, that crooked, high, grin seemed to hold a few more dark secrets now. 

“Never mind, I don’t want to know,” Diego really did. 

His brother would sneak out, come home at odd hours, usually too high to care of the anger he faced if Reginald caught him. Diego didn’t want to know what dark corners Klaus found himself in out in the city. Sure, Klaus knew how to fight, but wandering around high when you were thirteen years old was not safe. Even for one of them. 

“Hm. You gonna keep standing here, Diego?” Klaus asked. He didn’t seem to care, just seemed to ask out of vague curiosity. 

“What did he do to you?” Diego asked, no longer stuttering but no less emotional. 

Klaus said nothing. Diego didn’t even know if he was reaching him behind those fogged eyes. 

“He’s broken you completely, Klaus, he’s driven you insane,” Diego shook him desperately now, as if somehow truth could overcome the haze Klaus was trapped in. 

Klaus looked as if he was about to protest, but that was hard to do even for him. It’s hard to believe himself when he seemed to twitch for the next fix or flinch away from whatever appeared when he was sober. 

Diego finally let go, his brother collapsed to the ground without Diego holding him there, giggling all the while. Diego was about to snap at him again, when he heard something that he was sure could not be right. 

It was Five. In the next room over. “-We should kill dad?” 

Diego froze. Only listening to the conversation just around the corner. Klaus hadn’t noticed and it seemed was more fascinated by pulling at a loose thread on the rug. 

Ben said something that Diego couldn’t make out with Klaus still giggling to himself on the floor. “...we do what we have to.” Five said in reply. 

Diego should be afraid. Or angry or concerned or _something_. But his first thought was- why hadn’t they included him? Excluding Klaus made sense, he was useless, and Luther and Allison were too lucky. Too favored by their father. Vanya didn’t even cross Diego’s mind. 

Diego, brash and unthinking, stormed into the next room, leaving Klaus on the floor. 

“What are you guys planning?” Diego was always blunt. His brothers reacted with moderate horror. Ben staggering back, growing pale, Five was quick to cover his surprise in whatever clever mask he seemed to always wear. 

“What’s it to you?” Five asked. 

Diego stopped. Per usual, he had stormed in without thinking and didn’t know what to say. Or he did but wasn’t willing to admit it just yet. 

“Are you gonna tell dad?” Ben asked. 

“No,” Diego could answer that immediately. “No way. God- He’d _kill_ you.” Diego didn’t know how literal that might actually come to be. 

“So what do you want?” Five was on his feet, hands balled into fists, but Diego could still see he was unsteady on his feet. 

“I-” Diego was cut off by a sound that chilled him to the core. A terrible choking, gagging sound coming from the hall. 

Ben looked bemused and just as afraid as Diego felt. “What-?” 

“Klaus,” Diego said. 

Ben ran past him, his movement reminding Diego to act as they returned to the hall where Klaus was collapsed on the ground, choking on his own vomit. Diego felt his stomach wound up in knots as Ben turned Klaus over, trying to force him to cough some air into his lungs. Klaus’s cheeks were flushed red as his body fought for air. Even now, Klaus looked more dazed than afraid. After what felt like an eternity, Klaus took wheezing, gasping breaths. 

“Klaus? Klaus, can you say something?” Ben shook him slightly. 

“ ‘m fine…” Klaus said, but he didn’t pull away from Ben supporting him. 

“Christ…” Five muttered behind them. “And we all know why he’s so fucked up.” 

Ben shot him a dirty look for saying it in front of said brother, despite the fact that they all agreed on that fact. 

“You planning on stopping us, Diego?” Five asked, prepared for a fight. “Because you know exactly what’s gonna keep happening.” 

“You’re bringing that up at a time like this?” Diego snapped. 

“Just because Klaus keeps choking on his own vomit doesn’t mean I’m not right,” was Five’s retort. 

Diego was grim. Who could they get help from? Going to mom meant her going to dad and the repercussions on her and on all of them were too high to consider. Diego felt like he was backed into a corner. This rising bitterness only had one outlet. 

Things were growing simpler for Diego. He had hurt mom. That alone made the man irredeemable in his eyes. 

“He deserves to die.”


	5. Klaus.

Klaus did not care whether his father lived or died for many reasons.

One being that he was made utterly apathetic by his almost constant high, the other being that even dead his father could still torment him. And finally because he hated his father’s guts. 

For the past five years Klaus had lived in a state of constant terror waiting for another ‘private training session’. Save for the now common state of him being high, that terror was constantly pressing just underneath the surface. It didn’t always help, but the buzz usually softened the first hours of the night in the mausoleum. 

It also bottled the guilt for how hurt his family seemed by his apathy. Not all of them, but Ben hardly spoke to him now and Diego only did so in anger. Allison had gone from delighted that he wanted to paint his nails to oddly ashamed to even be near him. Luther’s disappointment reflected his father’s. Five had seemingly decided that Klaus was beneath him, although he seemed to think that about all of his siblings, and Vanya… Well, Klaus didn’t think Vanya was attached to any of her siblings. Not that he blamed her. 

It was morning. It was _finally_ morning. Klaus hated his father’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him back to the manor. At least this time the man did not scold him for his failure. Nor did he praise Klaus’s pathetic survival of that dark room. Klaus went to his bedroom in early morning, collapsing onto his bed with a growing headache. Sleep came easily, still with his high from the evening last night all but gone, it was restless and painful. Voices crawling back from the dark. 

Klaus could not sleep forever. The sheets a messy pile from his fitful state, he crawled out of bed. He was shaky, sweat beading on his forehead. He dug underneath the clothes in his dresser for a collection of plastic baggies. After checking to make sure the door was shut and locked, he moved to light the joint now in his shaking hands. 

“Come on,” Klaus muttered, the lighter’s spark flickering but never lighting. “Come _on_.” Frustration began to take over as his trembling hands refused to light the joint. 

Patience was never Klaus’s strong suit. Even before his nasty habits began to form. Klaus abandoned the lighter and returned to the drawer rummaging for something else. In a second bag was a collection of pills. Klaus had gotten them inadvertently. The man he had bought the weed off of had offered him the bag of pills for the rest of his cash. Cash that Klaus had gotten at a less than reputable pawn shop in exchange for a vase he had taken from the attic. 

At this age and with Reginald still alive Klaus did not have the courage to raid the main rooms. So his pawns came from the attic. Klaus, in more desperate times, did _other_ things to acquire drugs. Things he was too high to feel ashamed of and which would make his family all the more afraid for him. 

Klaus knew how to defend himself. Those nights where he snuck out, jumping climbing down from his window into the alley below, he knew that it was unlikely for someone to take down a child who had been trained for battle. Still, alone a thirteen year old boy could be overpowered. As of, Klaus had only done what he wanted to do. Well, he didn’t want to. But he did want the drugs it would earn. 

Klaus’s understanding of being in control had been warped long ago. 

Klaus had accepted the pills, but had decided to save them for emergencies. Smoking a joint was one thing, but taking pills was different. So he had said. Yet self restraint is not a forte of a thirteen year old budding junkie. And Klaus was too desperate for a high - those voices were pressing more and more now - to even wait to light a joint. Taking three of those pills out of the bag and downing them with some water from the bathroom sink felt like a far quicker fix. He headed for the bathroom, forgetting in his impatience to lock the door behind him, and went to the sink. 

He took the three pills one by one with tap water as he was not yet accustomed to downing them dry. Klaus did not bother to even consider the consequences of the dosage. He on the edge of the bathtub, waiting to feel something. 

_Klaus. Please, you have to help me. I don’t know where I am. I’m so lonely, Klaus._

_He killed me… I think he killed me. Klaus, you don’t deserve to be here… why are you alive? Why are you alive when I’m not?!_

There were only a few voices now. Far less than in the mausoleum, but he still covered his ears and curled on the floor, flinching away as he waited for their words to fade under a new haze. A different haze to what he was used to from smoking. 

Klaus first only felt lightheaded, then mild nausea joined it but at least it was blissfully quiet. Finally. 

Yet it did not stop there, his head grew foggier. As if was stuffed full of cotton. With that his mouth was becoming very dry and every inhale took more energy than normal. Klaus did not recall when he actually passed out. All he knew was that now his nose was burning from an acrid scent and Grace was hovering over him. 

“Klaus? Honey, are you feeling okay?” Grace asked, helping him sit up. 

Klaus struggled to focus on the room around him. Behind mom Diego stood in the doorway, an intense expression in his furrowed brow. 

“Never better,” Klaus mumbled, voice hoarse so that his throat hurt with every word. 

“You’re eyes are very dilated, dear,” Grace said. Her hand pressed into his forehead and Klaus could feel something whirring underneath her cool skin. “You have a fever of 100.2.” 

“I’m fine, mother,” Klaus sat up, the room spinning around him. 

“Maybe I should get your father-” 

“No,” Klaus said. Diego followed in turn. Klaus felt a swoop of anxiety over his nausea at the thought of how his father might respond to his illness. 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Grace stood. “How about I go put together a snack. Would you like some tea, Klaus? Until you’re feeling better?” 

“It’s okay, mom,” Klaus grinned, finding it far easier to force as his mind still felt oddly light and empty. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Grace gently brushed against his cheek, “well, if you’re sure.” His mother finally turned away from him and his guilt faded quickly, lulled away by the high that had not faded. “Are you feeling well, Diego? You look a little flushed.” 

Klaus did not focus on whatever Diego replied with, quite happy to let himself drift numbly. 

At some point mother had left and Diego had turned to him. “What did you take?” He asked, anger evident. 

Klaus stood, legs weak in a way that he found a bit funny. As he headed for the hallway he decided with vague disinterest to reply. “I dunno.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Diego spat. “You _don’t know?_ ” 

“No, not really. It isn’t too bad, whatever it was,” Klaus giggled, stumbling forward. Diego’s anger, and Klaus realizing how silly it was that he had taken mysterious pills, was quite funny. Either that or he had simply decided his hysterical behavior had to have a cause. 

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Diego asked. 

Klaus barely registered his words, moving past to head downstairs. 

Diego did not let him go so easily. “I thought you smoking weed was bad, but I’ve seen the shit you bring home now.” 

“What’s it to you, Diego?” Klaus kept moving, his feet heavy underneath him and Diego nothing more than an annoyance over his shoulder. 

“What’s it to me?” Diego snapped. Klaus wondered vaguely why Diego wouldn’t leave him alone. “Yesterday mom asked dad if he would take you to the doctor. I don’t even think she knows that you’re not sick. Well, not sick in the way she thinks. She keeps on hovering over you and it’s pissing dad off. Dad said he might have to fix her. Said she was getting too weak when it came to dealing with us.” 

A sober Klaus would have been frightened by this. Their mother was one of the few mercies they had in this life. This version of Klaus was merely wandering aimlessly for the right words for Diego to leave him alone to enjoy his high. “So what?” 

Klaus felt a shuddering pain up his back as Diego slammed him into the wall, reaching up to hold the taller boy by the collar of his shirt. Klaus found his minorly annoying at best. Diego’s anger amusing and pain temporary when he could drift so easily. Diego kept talking as if Klaus was even processing his words. “So who knows what that would do to her? You-You know she isn’t just some machine. Last time dad reprogrammed her s-she forgot about us.” 

Klaus felt another unnatural laugh bubble from his lips. His nausea was only furthered by his gasps for air between laughter that was so unlike the way he had laughed before. Before _what?_ Before his dad had first locked him up? Before he had learned what there was to be afraid of? Klaus’s morality came in a haze of black and white. The drugs making the world so simple. Who cares if Grace had forgotten them? “She remembered.” Klaus was vaguely aware that Diego had stumbled over his words. Funny. “You’re stuttering again, Diego. I thought you were doing a little better. Mom was helping you, right?” He didn’t even know how much these words could hurt his brother. To him he was merely stating a fact. 

“K-Klaus, what did you take?” Diego asked. 

Klaus shrugged noncommittally. Deciding to tell the truth on a whim. He didn’t care enough either way. “Pill. A few pills.” 

“ _P-Pills?_ ” Diego’s voice shook. “H-How many?” 

“A few,” Klaus relaxed into his brother’s grip, he leaned against the wall like a corpse, only Diego holding him there. 

“Where did you even get them?” Diego asked. 

These words approached Klaus which he heard with experimental attention. Klaus was numbed, but he was not incapable of shame or fear or pure survival instinct. What he did was dangerous. And how he did it possibly more so. 

“Never mind, I don’t want to know,” Diego’s words were only further proof that his family was ashamed of him. 

Klaus was surprised that his brother even cared enough to notice when he made it home. To question the company he had started keeping. Klaus wouldn’t call the dealers and addicts who offered him more intensive solutions to be friends, but he did spend more bonding time with them than his own family. The kind of people he was meeting up with were not simply high school dropouts selling weed on the side. It had only started that way. The pills he had taken today were nothing short of tame compared to other things he had been offered and had even taken. The bottom drawer in his dresser was a nightmare of probable cause should the police ever be allowed inside the Hargreeve’s mansion. 

Klaus was growing a little tired of this game. His brother couldn’t hold him here forever. “Hm. You gonna keep standing here, Diego?” Klaus asked. 

“What did he do to you?” Diego asked. Something in his tone left Klaus feeling… bad. That was articulate as his fogged mind could be. 

After too long of Klaus being too apathetic to answer, Diego shook him again. “He’s broken you completely, Klaus, he’s driven you insane.” 

Klaus’s first, sedated instinct was to defend himself. To argue that he was wrong. Yet Klaus could find no argument for it. Especially with the memories of the night before far too fresh even in his high mind. His father had ruined him. The occasional voices and funny little imaginary friends he had had for the first seven years of his life were not frightening. Waves of the dead trying to tear away at him in the dark were. And his father had brought that on him. 

Diego let go. Klaus had the sudden feeling of the world falling underneath him and he hit the ground, already laughing hysterically from his unawareness of his own legs going limp while Diego supported him. Diego had left his side and gone to the living room. Klaus neither knew nor cared why, he was busy laughing so uncontrollably he thought he would pass out. He was hardly taking in air now, only to let it out in wheezing, mad gasps. 

He wasn’t sure why. But he also found himself unable to stop. He felt so sick and he couldn’t breathe. He was making himself panic. Bile rose in his throat as he hadn’t eaten since some time yesterday and then he was choking, his throat was burning, and he didn’t know how to struggle or even try to help himself. 

His head, already foggy, was pounding, the room seemed to shift around him. He couldn’t _breathe_. 

Ben was at his side. When had he gotten there? He yanked him up, desperately trying to force him to draw breath. There were others in the room, but Klaus was more focused on Ben’s hand on his back and the other wrapped around his middle. 

They were talking. Five was there, his cold calculating tone familiar, and Diego and Ben responded with equal animosity. 

“Klaus? Klaus, can you say something?” Ben was shaking him. Not helping his nausea in the slightest. 

“ ‘m fine…” Klaus said, and was unashamed to cling to Ben’s side. 

“Christ…” Five muttered behind them. “And we all know why he’s so fucked up.” 

The rest of their words faded as a more sobered Klaus took in Five’s claim with a gloomy acceptance. God, he was such a fuck up. And that was only partially dad’s fault. 

“He deserves to die,” Diego said. 

“ _What?_ ” Klaus asked. What the hell was going on. 

He was met with a stiff silence. 

“Come on, you already just watched me almost choke to death, the least you can do is let me know why you want me dead,” Klaus’s fogged brain assumed their anger was directed towards him. 

“Not you,” Ben said. He seemed to think rather deeply for a moment. “Dad.” 

Klaus’s response was impulsive, jarring even. The sort of black humor only Klaus could come up with in an instant. 

“Fine. Doesn’t make much difference to me,” Klaus shrugged. “Even dead he’s not gonna leave me alone.” 

Even Klaus wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not. 

“But how’re you all planning on doing that?” Klaus said. “Is Five just gonna teleport behind his head and shove one of Diego’s knives into his neck?” Klaus didn’t know how, but he had somehow made some logical conclusions about all of this. “No. If we’re gonna do this, we’ll need Luther. He’s dumb as a brick, but he might be the only one dad won’t see coming and would be able to take him down directly.” 

“He’s on old man,” Five scoffed. 

Klaus thought of how easily his father dragged him down those stone steps. Like it was nothing even when Klaus fought back like a feral animal. 

“He doesn’t let go very easy,” Klaus said, something dark behind his eyes. Almost sobered. Almost. 

“I think Klaus is right,” Ben said. “Not just because we need Luther’s strength, we need to make sure that we’re all in agreement.” 

“No loose ends,” Five nodded. Ben’s mind had gone to the morality of a choice like this. Five had gone to the logistics of covering up a murder. 

Klaus didn’t much care either way, he just knew the thought of trying to kill his father terrified him. And not because he might succeed. The consequences of failure were far more terrifying than the very real risk of his father never letting him rest once they put his body in the ground. 

“You actually think we can turn to Luther for something like this?!” Diego finally spoke having been attempting to maintain his brooding silence. “He doesn’t care about us. He’d go right to dad and snitch.” 

“You gonna stab dad, then?” Klaus asked him. 

Klaus noticed that when Diego blushed it tinged his ears red. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t be talking so loud about this,” Five hissed. After a moment of silence he continued in a more hushed tone. “If we’re telling Luther of all people, we should also tell Vanya.” 

“Everyone should be part of the decision,” Ben agreed. “Allison too.” 

“Then we’ll get down to the when and where, right?” Klaus said sarcastically. “Wonder if Pogo will help us hide the body.” 

“Klaus, for once in your life, shut up,” Diego spoke through gritted teeth. 

Klaus was too tired to deal with their annoyance. “Sure, but I think if anyone should be able to talk shit it’s me, because whatever you dicks do, I’ll have to deal with the undead consequences.”


	6. Vanya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is Vanya's chapter, there had to be some violin music!  
> You can find the piece she's practicing [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DO4UuixMww0&feature=youtu.be).  
> It's the first 2 and a half minutes or so that felt like Vanya to me, so I definitely recommend a listen to that part at least.  
> Hope you like it and the chapter!

Vanya might as well have woken up to an empty house that morning. She got ready at a slow pace, getting dressed and brushing her hair sluggishly in her little bedroom. No one was expecting anything of her that day. She would do schoolwork and possibly check it over with mom later, but other than that the hours were empty ahead of her. Another kid might find this prospect freeing. Vanya, after this being her reality for as long as she could remember, saw it as daunting. All that empty, lonely space stretching before her.

So she went downstairs. 

“Good morning, Ms. Vanya,” Pogo said offhandedly. He headed across the house with a book under one arm and a notepad in the other. Research for dad most likely. 

“Morning, Pogo,” Vanya continued past him further down. In the kitchen Grace was already dancing around with pancakes and eggs already piling up. Grace did not shuffle or wander in her work. She danced. Despite being made of metal she moved so delicately. 

Despite that ache of isolation never leaving her chest, Vanya felt some semblance of peace at the sight of her. 

“Good morning, Vanya,” Grace smiled with teeth so white it was inhuman. Which was perfectly reasonable considering she wasn’t. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Yeah,” Vanya said. She did not return the question. There was no need to. “Anyone else up?” 

Grace hesitated. An unusual sight from her. “Well, Klaus and your father got home a little while ago. From your brother’s training session.” 

Vanya was left gloomy at this not because she feared for Klaus’s safety -she had no idea where they had been the night before- but simply because it was something else she wasn’t a part of. 

Vanya did not continue the conversation and instead sat at the kitchen table, Grace placing a bowl of fruit with two eggs - sunny side up - and a glass of orange juice. By now Grace had everything her children would enjoy stored in her memory. 

“Thanks, mom,” Vanya said. 

“Wait one moment dear,” Grace returned and dished out some bacon on the plate. “You need some protein for the day.” Vanya noted that the addition also completed the smiley face started by the two eggs. 

Vanya ate in silence. Her mother did not push her to chat, rather content to hum quietly to herself while she continued to work around the kitchen. 

Someone was coming downstairs to join them. Vanya looked up with disinterest as Allison entered the kitchen. 

“Morning, mom,” Allison as always moved with a somewhat pompous skip in her step. 

“Good morning, Allison. Did you sleep well?” Grace asked her other daughter. Her statements occasionally showed through as repetitive programming, but held no less meaning behind them than anyone else’s words in the house. 

“Yeah. Pretty good,” Allison sat down three seats away from Vanya, having barely spared her a glance since entering. Vanya wanted to make a scathing comment about how she doubted that as Allison had definitely crossed the hall to Luther’s bedroom late the night before. 

“How was your night, mom?” Allison asked, having still said nothing to Vanya. 

“Oh, good, dear. Just enjoyed the view,” Grace told her. 

Vanya stood, irritated that her sister seemed to be actively ignoring her. It was a new low. Or at least one that Vanya didn’t tolerate yet. 

“Vanya, you didn’t finish your breakfast!” Grace called after her but Vanya didn’t bother to respond. She could just keep chatting with the daughter that wasn’t worthless. 

Vanya headed into the living room where her violin laid from the day before. She grabbed the sheet music with some aggression and the first few chords she strung out were harsher than they should be. 

She should be working on her school work. It was the only actual work she shared with her siblings, even if they rarely shared it with her. Still, with her unusually irritated start to the morning, she turned to the violin to cope with her anger. 

Vanya had been working at Handel’s Sonata No. 2 for several weeks now and an almost vicious pride swelled inside of her as the notes flowed more evenly. She had all but mastered the piece. Her body relaxed into the strings and the morning leveled out into the one thing that could never be ruined by the lonely monotony of this house. 

Her peace was interrupted by Five. He entered the living room on foot and slapped a book onto the coffee table, muttering all the while. 

“Oh, Vanya,” Five seemed surprised by his sister’s presence despite her violin having only gone still just then. 

“Surprised to see me?” Vanya said. “Y’know, I do actually live here,” her sarcasm felt so much easier with this particular brother. 

“Sorry to barge in, it’s just-” 

“Dad,” Vanya finished his sentence. “Come on, then.” She placed her violin aside and sat back in one of the armchairs. She remained calm and almost detached but really she was desperate to talk to her brother. To talk to _anyone_ who wasn’t programmed to take care of her. 

“I asked him if today, during my training, if we could try time travel,” Five said. 

“Are you still on that?” Vanya asked. 

“ _Yes_ I’m still on that,” Five snapped. “I’ve been studying the theory constantly, but that’s not the same as actually practicing. Time travel isn’t impossible, you know. It exists and -in theory- could physically be travelled through.” 

“No need to patronize me,” Vanya said. “Theory isn’t the same as knowing how to do it-” 

“Exactly! Which is why dad needs to realize I can do this,” Five said. 

“You think you’ll change his mind?” Vanya asked. 

“He treats me like a child. Like I don’t know my own strength,” Five paced in front of her, unable to stop his ranting. 

“But you _are_ a child,” Vanya said. 

“Vanya, we aren’t ‘just children’. You know that,” Five told her. That stung. As if they weren’t all stupid children who couldn’t stop bickering. Still, Five’s flushed determination made her nervous. 

“But if dad doesn’t want you to do something dangerous…” 

“As if he would know,” Five snapped. “He’s just a man. I know what I’m capable of. If he would stop _pushing_ the spatial jumps, I could make some real progress.” 

“Time travel,” Vanya sighed. She was growing tired of the conversation. 

“I can do it, Vanya,” Five finally stopped his pacing. “What about you? Has dad even talked to you today?” 

“He hasn’t talked to me this _week_ ,” Vanya said gloomily. “I haven’t talked to anyone besides mom and Pogo today. You’re the only one who bothers to talk to me.” Vanya realized with a little confusion that her brother should not be able to chat with her on a weekday. “Actually, shouldn’t you be training or something? You guys don’t have a free half hour until dinner time.” 

“I’m supposed to be reading Gribbin’s,” Five admitted. Vanya pretended to understand that time travel was possible, but ‘Gribbin’s’ made no sense to her. “Gribbin’s book on quantum physics,” he explained. “Dad actually thinks reading the theory is anything like actually doing it…” 

“What is it like then, Five?” Vanya felt a familiar ache in her chest. What was it like when that blue overtook his hands? To have that kind of strength, to do the impossible? She had a yearning that had weighed her as long as she could remember. Powers. The only peace came from the sound of her violin. 

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Five was a little dismissive. “I just am. And then I am somewhere else.” 

“You get tired though, don’t you?” Vanya pushed. She rarely spoke with her siblings but she spent plenty of time watching. Trying to understand and wanting to connect even more so. 

Five always looked serious, but now he looked wary. “If I do it too much, sometimes I think I stop reappearing all the way. Like something is left behind.” 

“Sounds scary,” Vanya spoke quietly. She wanted their powers desperately, but the risk still frightened her. To not exist, all for their father’s stupid testing. 

Five shook his head. “It’s not scary, it’s a waste of time. I know how to do spatial jumps even if I can’t keep doing them forever, I should be-” 

“Time travelling,” Vanya finished dully. 

“Sorry. I know you’re probably tired of hearing me complain,” Five forced himself to settle. “How’s practice?” Five asked, referring to the violin Vanya had put down in favor of talking to her brother. 

“Good!” Vanya felt almost giddy at this turn of events. Finally, something she was confident in. She moved almost feverishly, returning to the right page of the sheet music. “Sonata II. G.F. Händel. Part 1. Took me all month, but I finally can play all the way through without messing it up.” Vanya was more than encouraged, she felt _proud_. Whatever talents her siblings had naturally, this one she had earned. 

Five sat across from her, just staring. Vanya stared back, anxiety and embarrassment returning under the rare attention. “Well? Are you gonna show me?” 

Vanya was almost shocked. Five was asking for her to show him what she had been working on? She knew this was something she could do and he couldn’t, still she hadn’t expected the opportunity to prove the fact. 

And so she began to play. 

All that stiff anxiety faded, even in front of Five who still harbored a superiority complex, because she was _good_. Her eyes watched the notes across the page more out of habit than necessity. She felt the notes more than she read them by now. Her shoulder was relaxed even with the violin pressed tightly against it and the bow fit between her fingers so neatly. The music was more than sound to her. It was power. A connection between her and something being created that _she_ had and her siblings didn’t. She had almost forgotten Five was her audience as for once his strengths were beneath hers. It didn’t last long. 

“Number Five! Number Seven!” That harsh, barking tone brought the bow down and with it Vanya’s peace. Her shoulders hunched and suddenly the violin was a crime instead of a strength. 

“Number Seven. Stop distracting your brother with this nonsense,” Hargreeves looked his daughter in the eye for the first time in days and Vanya wanted to inherit Five’s powers if only to melt away from his gaze. _Nonsense_. Of course her own talent, the only thing she had, was _nonsense_. Finally, he turned away. “I expect better from you Number Five. You were told to read John Gibbon’s thesis.” 

“I finished it,” Five said defiantly. 

“That is not an excuse for you lazy behavior.” 

“I read it. I understood it,” Five’s words felt dangerous. Vanya reached for his hand, trying to pull him back. He yanked it away and kept playing a risky game. Vanya knew better than to try and speak up herself. “There’s nothing I can learn from it. _John Gibbon_ doesn’t have any idea what someone like me is capable of.” 

Yet their father did not shout at him. That alone was enough to make Vanya fear for her brother’s safety. 

“Come with me, Number Five. You’ll have the chance to make up for your behavior during your session,” their father left without giving Vanya a glance. Five followed, hands balled into fists at his side. 

And Vanya was alone again. Her concern for Five still nagging at the back of her mind. 

She spent far too long staring at the main hall her brother and father had disappeared into. Sometimes she forgot how lonely she was. It tended to blend with life, but on the off day it hit her full force. Vanya put away her violin and decided to spend her time doing what she was told. She went across to one of the tables in the study, collecting pencils and her algebra textbook with a sluggish gloom. Vanya was smart. They all were smart, because they had to be. Their actual school classes moved far more quickly than a public school’s would. Hargreeves wanted them to be book smart and have time for all this extra training. They were thirteen, but were all already taking high school geometry. Except for Vanya. She had moved onto advanced algebra. It was easy to excel with little else to do. Still, she was distracted by movement throughout the house. Only punctured by their father’s barking tone upstairs. Vanya worried about Five. He was going to get himself really hurt one day. 

Her studies - and worries - were interrupted by giggling from around the corner. Vanya’s irritation was sharp. Allison came into the room loudly. Followed by Luther. She was all confident stride and words which could terrify. Luther perfect blond hair and strength hidden behind the awkward body of puberty. A body far preferable to the alternative. 

“Stop, Luther,” Allison rolled her eyes, but did not seem to mean her words in the slightest. Not unusual for her. She hopped up onto the back of the couch. 

“Aw, come on-” Luther pursued her but stopped himself. “Oh. Hey Vanya.” 

The silly, casual playfulness between them faded into awkwardness around their sister. 

“Don’t let me stop your fun,” Vanya said sarcastically. 

“No need to be such a buzzkill,” Allison rolled her eyes and hopped down from her perch. 

“Oh, are you talking to me now?” Vanya said coldly. 

“What?” Allison grew defensive. 

“You completely iced me this morning. Not like that’s unusual,” Vanya did not hide her bitterness. 

“I thought you weren’t a morning person,” was Allison’s stuffy excuse. 

“Oh, sure. As if you care about anyone but you and darling number one over there,” Vanya didn’t know why her anger was so deep today. Maybe it was Five rubbing off on her, maybe she was just tired, or simply stressed from the fact that their father seemed extra set on wearing down one of the only siblings that spoke to her. “You’re so careless sometimes-” 

“Hey, watch it,” Luther stepped forward, arms folded across his chest. 

“Don’t bother, Luther. You guys can go be weird somewhere else,” Vanya said, already bored of even antagonizing her siblings. 

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Allison snapped. 

Vanya felt a vicious sort of satisfaction at how defensive they became. “You know exactly what I mean. Just because we don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it isn’t there and we all know it’s more than a little wrong.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luther said, but he lacked the confidence he had with his actions when it came to words. 

“Fine. Guess I don’t. Do _you_ know what you’re talking about, Luther? Or have you heard a rumor lately?” Vanya was pushing a dangerous line. 

That was perhaps even darker than her other implications. The idea of one of them using their powers directly against another sibling was off limits. It was one thing for Diego to throw a knife nearby during a spar in training or for Five to try and annoy people with his teleporting, it was another to even consider Allison pushing her family like that casually. At least, without father telling her to for the sake of ‘training’. Deep down they all knew it was Hargreeves seeing how far he could push them against one another before they broke. Training. That word was the excuse for any manner of cruelty asked of them. There were rules outside of that, but they changed so easily depending on what father wanted. 

“God, Vanya, what’s gotten into you? You can’t just say things like that,” Allison’s cheeks were flushed darker. “I’m sorry if I actually like spending time with the family.” 

“Get out. Just-Just leave me alone, okay?” Vanya was adept at making herself fade into the background when their father was around, but it was hard to keep herself so contained when it was siblings she envied got away with so much. 

Allison hesitated. And for a moment she felt the urge to take Luther by the hand and leave with just as much bitterness as there always was in this house. But Vanya seemed more on edge than usual. 

“Are you okay?” Allison asked. 

Vanya froze, genuine surprise showing underneath that pale cynicism. 

“Fine.” 

“Are you sure?”Allison stepped closer. 

“Al-” 

“Hold on, Luther,” Allison said. She didn’t need a rumor for Luther to fall silent. “What is it? Don’t act like I can’t tell you’re more pissy than usual.” 

“Do you care or not?” Vanya snapped. Allison said nothing. “Dad’s mad at Five.” 

“When isn’t he?” Luther said. 

“Just because dad is never mad at you doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences for other people,” Vanya said quietly. 

“Vanya- why is he mad at Five? What’s he gonna do?” Allison asked. 

“I don’t know, it just makes me nervous,” Vanya said. “Five was being mouthy, and dad has been pushing him really hard in training-" 

“We know that. We’re actually in training,” Luther said. Vanya wasn’t sure if he was trying to be a dick or if he was too ignorant to filter himself. 

“And?” Allison ignored him and continued to question Vanya. 

“You asked why I’m _pissy_ and that’s why,” Vanya said. 

Allison frowned, still thinking. “Five will be fine. Maybe a little grumpier than usual at dinner, but don’t worry about it.” 

It was far from compassionate support, but from Allison to Vanya, between any of their siblings, it was far more solidarity than normal. 

“Fine, then. Go on. I won’t tell dad you guys were goofing off,” Vanya said. In their own way it was almost understanding. 

“Come on, Luther,” Allison took his hand and pulled him out of the room, Luther glancing back as if to say something before thinking better of it. 

Vanya wasn’t sure what to make of her sister. They spent so much time with resentment or ignorance towards the other that these rare moments were baffling at best. 

Vanya was bored. She took her violin under one arm and her music stand under the other and headed for her bedroom. She climbed the stairs, head bowed and shoulders hunched as she realized her father stood ahead. Vanya jumped when Five appeared beside him, looking irritated as usual. Father pointed at a large map in front of him and then Five was gone. Vanya heard a slight thud downstairs, meaning his landing was less than ideal. Vanya had no bravery to stick around and see how he was doing and instead continued down the hall quickly to her room. 

Her bedroom was small, but the least oppressive room in the house. There she set up her stand again. Sure she should be doing schoolwork, but she’d rather practice her music in peace. She settled once again, the sun at her back shining onto the page, her door still open, and let her bow comfort her. 

It didn’t take very long before Diego came running past her door down the hall. 

“Mom!” 

Vanya’s annoyance grew. Of course Diego had nothing better to do besides go running after mommy. She shut her door. 

Now the rest of the house and the sorrows that came with it were blocked out in sound. 

It was six o’clock. Grace’s bell drifted through the house, summoning them to the dining room. They were all supposed to be there before their father arrived. Vanya moved downstairs quickly, relieved to find that not only was their father not there, but neither were any of the other children. 

“Vanya, darling, have you seen your brothers and sister?” Grace asked. 

Vanya shook her head and was interrupted by Luther and Allison rushing into the room looking a bit flustered. 

“Where is everyone?” Luther asked. 

“Good question, Luther. I’ll be right back,” Grace was nervous. Well, she wasn’t light and without a care in the world which was about as worried as she got. They heard her call upstairs for the boys. 

Diego, Five, Ben, and Klaus all came down the stairs together, each looking vaguely guilty. 

“Wash up and come to the dinner table, please,” Grace told them. 

Eventually things righted themselves. The children stood behind their chairs, waiting for their father to arrive. He made them wait for ten minutes. Luther and Allison took to whispering to one another across the table and - far more surprisingly - Ben was whispering to Klaus while also apparently having a silent conversation with Five across the table. 

Cold silence fell upon Hargreeves’ arrival. Their father stood at the opposite end of Vanya and her siblings. 

“Sit,” was his only word. 

Only then did they take their seats. Their silence remained. The record player continued the lecture they had started prior. One about mountain climbing. A task maybe her siblings would have to undertake one day, but not her. Not too long into the meal Five looked as if he were about to speak. A dangerous task at the dinner table. Yet, oddly enough, Five who was usually far too set in his ways to change, somehow thought better of it. He glanced at his brothers around the table and continued to eat in silence. 

It was a change from the expected. Caution rather than confidence from Five. Not only that but he had come to the dinner table _with_ his brothers. Five didn’t do anything with his brothers by choice. Something was wrong. Or different at least, Vanya thought. 

Dinner proceeded utterly uninterrupted. 

Their father stood and all the children followed in suit. No one moved from behind their chairs. 

“Dismissed.” 

Only then did they break off. Luther and Allison leaving quickly together. They had the evening free unless their father needed something. 

Vanya hesitated as Five, and her other brothers made to leave. She followed. 

“Five,” Vanya reached out and grabbed her brother’s arm. 

“Yeah?” Five looked almost startled, even nervous. The other boys moved on ahead, Diego and Ben talking quietly. 

“What’s going on?” Vanya asked. No point in pretending it wasn’t obvious. 

Five glanced over Vanya’s shoulder at their father’s retreating figure. He was heading for his study and was unlikely to leave until late that night. 

“Come on,” Five pulled her upstairs and down the hall. Not to one of their bedrooms, but to the laundry room. There, the dryer rattled loudly and the other residents of the house were distant. 

“Five, you’re scaring me,” Vanya said. 

“Vanya, do you think you care about dad?” The question felt absurd but Five was utterly certain. 

Vanya began to speak before she had really considered the question, “I…” But she could not continue. 

Five looked at her with this foreign, imploring honesty. “Think about it, Vanya.” 

Her first thought was not whether or not she did care about their dad but rather whether or not she should. 

They lived in a mansion. With more wealth than some people would have in three generations. They were given an education at home better than a public school. These things felt so worthless as she thought about it. What had their father ever done for them besides hurt them? 

“Five, why are you just thinking about this now? What’s the point?” Vanya asked instead. 

Five glanced to the door even as the dryer covered their voices. 

“I trust you, Vanya. You’re not like the rest of them. But I don’t want to scare you,” Five began. It only worried her more how thoughtful he was being. 

“Just tell me, Five,” Vanya insisted. 

Five just couldn’t say it flat out. Not to her. “Ben, Diego, Klaus, and I. We’ve been talking. About how much he’s hurt us. And I’ve been noticing some things. Klaus has always been a mess, but when Ben brought it up- it was a after his private session with dad- there was _blood_ on his shirt. And Diego is still stuttering. Just, things like that. How he’s not going to stop.” This statement was the one thing that didn’t surprise her. Besides the fact that her brothers had actually talked about it. Five licked his lips, evidently having gone dry. “We need to stop him and we think there’s only one way how.” 

“Five,” Vanya sounded almost panicked. Mostly because she wasn’t opposed to what Five was leaning into. 

“We’re planning on stopping him. Permanently,” Five finally said it. 

Vanya hadn’t been taught that blinding, merciless rage in action. That which pushes one to kill. But she had witnessed it, which was sort of the same thing. 

“You’re gonna kill dad?” Vanya sounded oddly calm. “What then? After he’s dead?” 

Five paused. It seemed he didn’t have an answer. “Well let’s figure out how we’re gonna kill the bastard, then we’ll talk.” 

“What about Luther and Allison?” Vanya asked. 

“Ben thinks we need to tell them. I think I might actually agree. If there’s any infighting involved, there’s no way we’ll all make it out intact. Or worse, dad will make it out,” Five said. “But how the hell are we going to convince them?” 

Vanya frowned. “I think… I think Allison understands. In a way. And if we get her, Luther will follow.” 

“We just have to make sure they don’t tell dad,” Five said. “Because if they do…” 

Vanya felt genuine fear form at the idea. She was truly afraid of their father. Of what he might do to them. That only proved to her that Hargreeves had to go. One way or another.


	7. Allison.

Allison would be lying if she said that she wasn’t a little caught up in her own life, but she wasn’t blind. Her siblings had been up to something in the past weeks. Something she and Luther apparently weren’t a part of. She was a little bitter about it, not that she would ever tell them that. She also had no intention of bringing this up to her father as there were always consequences for bothering him. Luther was oblivious himself.

“Allison? You okay?” Speaking of, Luther pulled her away from her thoughts with a hand on her leg. 

“Fine,” Allison still stared after the doorway where Diego and Five had been speaking softly as they headed through the house, likely to join the others in their scheming. 

“Okay,” Luther was smart enough to know Allison was lying. “Well, when you want to talk about it, let me know.” 

“Luther, you know if I needed to talk to you about something, I would, right?” Allison said gently. 

“Alright, you want to get back to practice?” Luther asked with that soft smile he always seemed to wear only for her. 

“Yeah, sure,” Allison turned to face him. 

“Ricin,” Luther read from a notecard. 

“Produced from the seeds of the caster oil plant,” Allison began. “Highly toxic. Takes less than a teaspoon to be fatal.” 

“He also wants you to know it was weaponized in WWII,” Luther added. 

“At least I know cyanide, right?” Allison said gloomily. 

“I think everyone knows cyanide,” Luther said. “I think it’s the rarer poisons he’s worried about.” He continued to skim. “Atropine.” 

“Belladonna. From the nightshade bush. Small doses cause hallucinations, large doses are fatal,” Allison said. 

Luther frowned, evidently lost in thought for a moment. “Do you think they’re all studying together? Trying to one up us?” Luther had caught on to Allison’s concern about their other siblings. 

Allison laughed. “I don’t know if they can plan ahead that much.” 

“But you’re wondering about it, aren’t you?” Luther pushed. 

“I mean, yeah, but I don’t know what there is to worry about. I think it’s more important that we make sure we know the side effects of….” Allison read over his shoulder. “Strychnine, and make sure we pass dad’s test.” 

“It’s more important we can identify it in the field than know the origins,” Luther said. “Dad didn’t say it was a written test.” 

Allison felt a little sick. She wouldn’t put it past dad to have them identify poisons by less than safe means. 

“Belladonna smells kind of bitter, I think,” Luther referenced their own disturbing equivalent of a text book. “But these books are a little out of date.” 

“Well it’s not like he’ll make us actually drink poison,” Allison said. 

“Course not,” Luther said. Neither of them sounded very sure. 

Ben came rushing past the room as well and Allison’s curiosity finally won over. 

“Ben!” Allison called after him. Ben stopped, looking disgruntled and a little confused by his sister’s attention. 

“What?” Ben asked. 

“What’re you guys doing?” Allison asked. 

Ben opened his mouth to speak before stopping again. “We’re studying.” 

“Really?” Luther asked. 

“Yeah, really,” Ben shifted uncomfortably. 

“What’s wrong?” Allison asked. Ben was the sweetest of her brothers, well, Luther was an exception as her favorite, so she was more willing to actually worry about him. 

“Nothing,” Ben rolled his eyes. 

“Did dad put you in the brace again?” Luther asked casually, but Ben’s reaction was far more tense. It was a bitterness unbecoming of their peaceful brother. 

“What do you care?” Ben hissed. His discomfort, his awkward movements, finally made sense. 

“You know dad makes you wear that for a reason,” Luther, the blind defender, continued to speak. “It’s because you haven’t learned control.” 

“What would you know about that? You always obey dad because it’s all you know how to do,” Ben snapped. 

“Wow, no need to get so mad about it,” Luther muttered. 

“Why’d he put you in the brace again? Something happen during training?” Allison asked. 

“You could say that,” Ben said. “I told him I wanted to stop. That I was tired,” Ben’s hand went to his stomach. “That _we_ were tired. Said if I didn’t want to try and learn control then I wouldn’t mind being contained for the time being. Contained… as if that’s fair.” It was clear that it hurt him. That Ben struggled to breathe with his torso in a vice. 

“Dad knows what he’s doing,” Luther said firmly. 

“You’re both so…” Whatever they were Ben didn’t say, he simply turned and left them. 

“What was that about?” Luther asked Allison bewilderedly. 

“You know the family, there’s always a reason to be pissed,” Allison said, but at the same time she felt a little unsettled at the thought. They were all always arguing. Sometimes it felt like it was her and Luther against the world. 

Luther seemed to sense that she was still a little tense as he pulled her into a one armed hug, allowing her to rest her head on his chest while he stroked her hair. 

“We’ll be fine on dad’s test, Al,” Luther gave his best guess at what was worrying her, which Allison appreciated. Honestly she wasn’t really sure either what exactly it was that left her uneasy lately. 

It was later that day when something truly odd happened. Five came up to the pair of them and asked, “we need to talk. It’s important, can you come upstairs?” 

“Why?” Luther asked, seeming wary of his brother now, perhaps even expecting sabotage. 

“You’ll only find out if you come with me,” Five said impatiently. 

“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?” Allison sighed before following Five. Finally they would find out what the rest of their siblings had been up to. Still, it did feel oddly alienating to be crowded into Diego’s bedroom where all of their siblings were waiting. 

“What’s this all about?” Luther asked, so serious and tense, standing in front of Allison almost unconsciously. 

Their siblings did not instill confidence. Klaus hung off the bed upside down, Vanya sat criss crossed on the blankets, wringing her hands anxiously. Ben and Diego both stood, hardly imposing, but their own defensiveness was clear. 

“Luther, I need you to hear us out,” Ben seemed to be asking something of Luther, an understanding that they apparently doubted Luther was capable of. 

“What about me? What if I don’t like what you have to say?” Allison spoke up. 

“Well, we need good old number one to be a big boy,” Klaus said sarcastically. “Use his powers for the greater good.” 

“Klaus,” Diego said sharply. “You’re not helping.” 

“Fine, I’ll shut up, Diego, but do your best not to strangle Luther before we’re done here,” Klaus shot back, still hanging off the bed and at great risk of falling off. 

“Five? You want to explain?” Luther asked. Allison instead looked to Ben. She was more inclined to expect reason from him over her other siblings. 

“Luther, I want you to promise me you’ll think carefully. You can’t overreact, and you definitely can’t go to dad,” Five said firmly. 

“I can’t promise that,” Luther sounded offended by the very thought. 

“Come on, Luther, let’s hear them out,” Allison stepped up beside him, her hand reaching for his almost unconsciously. 

“Luther, you think that dad is justified, right?” Ben spoke up. 

“What are you talking about?” Luther avoided the question at first. “I mean- of course. He tries to do what’s best for us, you know that.” 

“I told you he’s in too deep,” Diego scoffed. “He’d turn on us in a heartbeat. I said this was a mistake-” 

“Diego, just shut up. You’re being worse than Klaus,” Five snapped. 

“Yeah, Diego,” Klaus added mockingly. 

“Can someone just get to the point?” Luther said exasperatedly. 

“Luther, what we’re about to say- it isn’t going to happen until we all agree,” Ben said slowly. “So if we tell you, even if you say no, you cannot tell dad.” 

“It’s not fair to make me promise that,” Luther said stubbornly. 

“How come you guys aren’t worried about me?” Allison frowned. 

“Well, we all know who out of all of us is most likely to snitch,” Diego offered. 

“Hey,” Luther pouted, but even Allison had to admit they had a point. 

“What does all this have to do with dad, anyways?” Allison asked. Silence fell. 

“Come on, Luther. Like I said, if you’re worried about what we’re planning, it’s not set in stone. We won’t go through with anything unless we _all_ agree. So as long as you don’t snitch, we don’t do anything you don’t want us to do,” Ben reasoned. 

Luther hesitated still. 

“I think that sounds fair, Luth,” Allison said. 

“Fine. I won’t tell dad. As long as you don’t do something stupid behind my back!” Luther said. 

“Okay,” Ben remained calm. Such a distinct difference between him and the monsters their father kept chained to his body. “I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, Luther, but dad has hurt us. _All_ of us.” 

“What do you mean?” Luther got defensive immediately. 

“Can you just listen?” Ben said firmly. His harshness made Allison realize how serious this must be. “You think he’s doing what’s best for us, but isn’t it wrong sometimes? Dad makes Allison manipulate people, he makes you hurt people-” 

“Bad guys,” Luther butted in. 

“Luther, let him talk,” Allison interjected. This actually got Luther to shut up. 

“I get that dad hasn’t done anything to his precious number one,” Five said dryly. “At least, nothing you’re willing to admit was wrong, but the rest of us weren’t so lucky.” 

“And we’re all worried about how far he might be willing to go,” Ben added. They were coddling him. That much Allison could tell. They were easing Luther into the conversation. 

“Dad would never try to hurt us,” Luther was being naive. Allison may not fully understand the grievances her siblings described, but she knew Luther was being almost neglectful at this point. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t just try, he actually does it!” Five snapped. “Do you know where dad takes Klaus on his private sessions?” 

“Five-” Klaus spoke warningly. 

“He locks him in a fucking mausoleum! With all those voices- and you say he’s weak for turning to drugs, as if you’re not a coward desperately avoiding punishment!” Five snarled, his voice not quite raised in fear of the very man he was tyrading against. 

Klaus sat up now, “Five, I told you all that in _private_ -” 

“Klaus’s powers are talking to the dead, and somehow it’s weird that dad expects him to practice doing that?” Luther spoke over him. 

Klaus’s anger was now directed at Luther. “You have _no_ idea what it’s like,” he sputtered. “If you’re this ignorant, maybe you’ll think killing dad is just sending him on a vacation-” 

“ _What?!_ ” Luther gasped. Allison stiffened, feeling as if she hadn't heard Klaus right. Or maybe he was just saying nonsense. 

“Those voices can’t just be turned off, you know-” Klaus kept ranting. 

Luther was backing up, heading for the door. 

“Luther, remember our deal,” Ben spoke warningly. 

“You’re crazy. All of you,” Luther moved to leave and Allison moved to stop him. Leaving things like this, so chaotic and unknown, felt dangerous to her. 

“ _We’re_ crazy?!” Five spat. “Look what your darling dad does to his kids!” 

Allison felt a chill run up her spine and was no longer worried about Luther leaving as he too was frozen. Five had yanked up Ben’s shirt, revealing metal that had been shaped to a child’s body and padlocked around it. The skin at the edge of the brace - more like cage - was red and raw from the tightness, even bruising in places. It was locked onto his body. A lock befitting the sinister nature of what their father had decided was reasonable treatment for a thirteen year old boy. 

Ben hastily pulled his shirt back down, appearing flustered. “Five, that wasn’t your call to make,” he said quietly. 

“They didn’t even get to see the blood,” Five snapped back. “You try and hide it, but I know he does something to you, the _other_ you, the part of you inside. The monsters. And I know it hurts you.” 

“Not the time…” Ben muttered. Klaus reached out to hold his brother’s hand, cringing when Ben flinched away. Too close to his stomach, Allison thought. 

“You’re… you’re serious. All of you, you really want to, k-k-” Luther couldn’t get the words out, he was starting to sound like Diego. 

“Kill dad,” Diego finished his sentence for him. 

“We can’t,” Luther had adjusted to the idea surprisingly well, except he immediately refused it unlike his other siblings. 

“Allison?” Finally, _finally_ they turned to her. Vanya, her question posed, stared expectantly at her sister. 

“We don’t _have_ to kill him,” was Allison’s reply. 

“Of course, dad loves you almost as much as precious number one-” Diego scoffed. 

“No, you misunderstand,” Allison cut him off. “I can get him to take that thing off of Ben. To stop him from taking Klaus to the mausoleum.” 

“Stop him from pushing us over the edge,” Five continued quietly. “Of course.” 

“What?” Luther hadn’t caught on, he still seemed agitated. 

“I can rumor him,” Allison said. 

Luther struggled with this almost as much as the original idea. “Use your powers on dad? How can we…” 

“‘How can we’? How can dad hurt his fucking kids?” Diego snapped. “Other people don’t live like us. Normal people, their parents protect them.” In any other group or on any other topic this would’ve seemed like the most obvious thing. Not with them. Of course, that dissonance was part of the problem. 

“Allison, you can’t actually be falling for this stuff?” Luther turned to her, expecting some form of trust in this room of radicalism. 

Allison thought back on the fear Vanya always seemed to have even as she lived in the shadows. She thought about how she used to paint Klaus’s nails even though father hadn’t approved, and how much worse it was when the next time she went knocking to see if he wanted to do her makeup instead she found him curled on his bed in a drug induced haze. How Ben had always been the tenderest among them and how reluctant he was to hurt people. How they all pushed him to even though it left him drenched in blood and trembling so violently they thought he might faint. Diego’s stutter had grown over the years, it hadn’t been there when they were very small. Allison wasn’t blind. She saw his stammer grow whenever their father looked at him. Five wasn’t always this angry. Allison had to wonder when his resentment towards the world had become so normal. And Luther? He tried to be tough, a good leader. He worshipped the ground their father walked on but how many times had Allison seen him break? In the quiet hours of the night he had sobbed like his father’s words - _I’m disappointed in you, number one_ \- were a death sentence. Like she hadn’t seen that weight crushing him beyond whatever strength he had. 

And what about her? What did she have in all of this? Allison could get anything she wanted, right? All she had to do was say the words. Yet Allison was starting to wonder if her voice was really her own. Allison had said things, made certain things happen that she regretted. Some of them of her own volition, but others were caused by the beckoning words of another voice, _number three, make them stop. Number three, get them to do it for us. Number three, tell them to get rid of each other_. Allison tried not to think about it, but not every order, every rumor, was there to beat the bad guys. 

“Luther, we’re not going to hurt dad,” Allison said. “But we can’t let him keep hurting people. We’ve got to get that thing off of Ben. We’ve got to get Klaus some real help. We can’t let him push you and Diego against each other,” that was a special feud that none of them wanted to acknowledge. But all of their family’s sins were coming loose, this one might as well follow. 

Diego didn’t make a cold retort and Luther did not protest. That was an incredible amount of progress for them considering. 

“You think you can just fix a few things? Without making dad too mad?” Luther asked hesitantly. 

“Of course,” Allison lied through her teeth. Her father’s guaranteed anger was daunting, but nothing a rumor couldn’t fix. 

“I’ll go with you,” Luther offered. 

“Sure, that sounds good,” Allison held his hand tighter. 

“Okay, are we all in agreement?” Ben spoke, breaking the two of them from their private little moment. “Allison is going to rumor dad?” 

No one actually said yes, but no one said no either. There was a strange sense of solidarity shared between all of them simply in a look. 

“What exactly are you going to say, Allison?” Five was the first to speak. “Say you tell him to take the thing off Ben, or to cancel the next private training session. What’s gonna stop him him from blowing up on all of us right after he does that?” 

Allison was very good at what she did. Her father had made sure of that. “I’ll tell him to sit there quietly and just listen.” 

“You think that’ll work?” Diego asked. “What if there’s a loophole or…?” 

“That’s not how my powers work, Diego. I’ll say it and it’ll happen exactly how I want it to,” Allison said. “He won’t be able to get up and then I can give him some more rumors. Once I get him settled, you guys will join us and we’ll figure out how all of this is gonna work.” She turned to Luther. “We’ll make it work for all of us. No one getting hurt.” 

“That’s likely,” Five scoffed. Allison shot him a dirty look. 

“When?” Vanya asked. She had been so quiet. Unaccustomed to be in a room with all of her siblings, to be a _part_ of things. 

“Now, of course. Why wait?” Klaus piped up. 

Allison said nothing, a cold feeling that she couldn’t quite place as dread taking over. Klaus was right, of course. But talking about something and actually doing it were very different, even if the distinction was blurred for Allison. 

“I’ll go with you,” Luther repeated. None of her other siblings had the courage to volunteer as well. Not to mention, it was best not to put their father more on edge by coming at him en masse. 

“Dad is in his study,” Ben offered. “But opening the door, let alone coming in is sure to tell him something wrong is happening.” 

“So what if he does? One sentence and he’ll stop caring if we’re in the study,” Allison said, but she was anxious. Masking it with false bravado and an arrogance their father both taught and beat down. 

“We’ll wait outside. In the main hall, so we’re out of the way,” Vanya offered her own form of solidarity. It was strange, for both Vanya and the rest of them to have number seven assert herself, to speak on their behalf. Still, none of them spoke the strangeness aloud. They were pushing away from that now. Into a new form of loyalty triggered by a shared mutiny. Because that was what this was, really. A mutiny. They were overthrowing their father and the pieces would fall as they may. 

That door. That stupid door which to them was like an impassable wall, even when it was open. The study was forbidden. Their father was forbidden. Luther hadn’t stopped holding her hand. 

Allison pulled away. 

It was not a rejection, it was more so her own way of protecting him. He could not be a part of this. Not really. Allison’s heart was racing. Not the manic, joyous adrenaline of fighting off the bad guys, but a fear which she buried under the simple confidence in a rumor. Her hand did not shake as it reached for the doorknob, but it did hesitate. This was her time travel, she found herself thinking. Five’s near obsession with the incomprehensible, the impossible. Here she was, emerging from the water as an acorn. Opening the door to the study. Entering it and crossing that infinite divide. 

“Number three! What are you doing?” That barking tone. Had it always sounded so angry? So imposing? Had their father always stood that tall over them? 

Allison had hesitated long enough. “I heard a r-” 

She did not get the chance to finish. She was on the ground. On a rug she had never walked on in these thirteen years. Her cheek was _burning_. And her father was terrifying. Turned white in both fear and livid anger. Their father had abused and manipulated them, but he had never _hit_ one of them. Allison had never imagined the old man could move that fast. 

“I-I-” Allison tried so hard to continue. To try again, to desperately defend herself. Her father yanked her to her feet, one wiry hand going to cover her mouth before she could get out another word. Allison’s heart was truly racing now. It felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. She couldn’t speak around his tight grip and she found herself inexplicably thinking that this was the first time her father had ever held her. It was not a hug, it was a stranglehold to render her mute, but all the same she couldn’t remember the last time she had been this close to her dad. 

“Grace!” Reginald roared the words far too close to her ears. “Grace, get down here this instant!” He pulled her from the study and Allison stared with wide eyes at Luther, who cowered away from their father’s path despite his strength out matching the man’s ten fold. 

“Mr. Hargreeves,” Grace rushed into the room and froze. She did not look shaken, but she did look temporarily frozen. Like her machinery had stopped working for a moment. Grace stared at Allison, held tightly by her master with a hand still covering her child’s mouth. 

“Grace, you will take number three downstairs. You will not uncover her mouth until she is out of earshot of me. You will lock her in the room and you will come back to me for instruction,” Hargreeves passed his daughter to the machine, ensuring that the metal hand replaced his vice like grip. Grace didn’t have a choice. She never had a choice. 

“D-Dad-” Luther finally spoke up, despite remaining pressed against the wall. 

“You will hold your tongue, number one!” Hargreeves shouted at his precious favorite and Allison thought Luther might faint. She thought that _she_ might faint. Grace was pulling her towards the basement. She barely glimpsed her other siblings, on their feet but still frozen, before she was in the dark. 

Allison was helpless. For so long she couldn’t understand the level of fear her siblings had for their father. The potential danger of people in general. Her entire life she had been comforted by the fact that she could fix anything with a rumor. Until she realized that her voice had never been her own. It still belonged to her father and he would not let it go. 

“It’s okay, darling. You’re okay,” Grace spoke the words like they were forbidden as she took her daughter deeper beneath the mansion. _The room_. One that Allison had actually visited before. One that felt blurred in her memories. They were just downstairs when Grace stopped covering her mouth. A machine could not be persuaded. 

“Mom,” Allison sounded oddly steady. Oddly numbed. As if she couldn’t believe what was happening. 

“It’s okay, Allison. Nothing bad is going to happen to you,” Grace was a very good liar, except for the fact that Allison already knew the truth. Their father was a dangerous man, and Allison had crossed a line beyond crossing into the study. 

The room was sound proofed. It was empty and lit only by narrow lights on the ceiling. The door was circular. More like the entrance to a submarine than a room in a house. Of course, this was no ordinary house. Allison felt like she had been here before. Why, _why_ , did it feel like she had been here before? Why was it that as she looked around this dark room she could only think of Vanya. Shouldn’t she be more worried about herself at this point? 

“I’ll try and be back soon, dear,” Grace kissed her forehead and maybe Allison was merely projecting, but she thought Grace might be shaking too. 

The door was shut. Allison did not try and speak her way out of this one. She was utterly alone, and thanks to these walls, truly voiceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, guys! And, uh, sorry about, well. Everything ;)  
> And remember, Luther is the only one left, how is he going to respond to this madhouse? Especially without Allison to ground him...


	8. Luther.

Luther is a simple man and an even simpler boy. His loyalty is his bond. And yet so easily broken. He idolized his father, but when it came down to him and Allison, there was no choice to make. Allison was it. Always. She was kind, he was not. He attacked his daughter, Allison tried to save her cold father.

That immediate faith did not extend to the rest of his siblings. When the topic was first approached Luther was only a little ashamed to admit that his knee jerk reaction was to leave Diego’s bedroom and go straight to dad. Was it because he wanted to protect his father? Because he was loyal to him? Or was he simply a dog obeying his training? 

Surely a plot to murder their father deserved some reluctance. 

But Ben’s body… There was no way to misconstrue that. Their father had decided that letting Ben’s skin grow red and raw was worth… what? Learning control? Funny, Ben hadn’t seemed out of control in a very long time… 

Even Klaus. A _mausoleum_? Those late nights… Klaus must have gotten so cold. God the _smell_. Luther couldn’t imagine. He didn’t _want_ to imagine. Imagining would mean confronting the fact that his father was cruel. Needlessly cruel. 

The final push, not to murder, but to simply listen, was her. Of course it was her. Allison could convince him of anything without a rumor. He loved her. Of course she had a solution. 

“We don’t have to kill him.” 

Allison could fix anything with a rumor. The idea still left him sick to his stomach but it was far easier to deal with than the strange, paralyzing terror that accompanied the thought of killing their father. All Luther could see was Reginald’s cold eyes. Disappointment from him was enough to send Luther into a breakdown, true anger he didn’t want to even comprehend. 

“You think you can just fix a few things? Without making dad too mad?” Luther had to ask. 

“Of course,” Allison said. He trusted her. Always. 

“I’ll go with you,” Luther would not leave her alone in this. 

So he had thought. Yet once the study door loomed in front of them, Allison let go of his hand. That was when fear began to return to him. Luther saw it happen. Luther saw his father _hit_ her. He wished in that moment he had stood in front of her, taken their father apart and said _No. You don’t get to fucking touch her_. But he didn’t. Luther was so fucking scared he couldn’t breathe. The brave, infallible number one cowered against the wall. His father seemed to fill the room and he still had his goddamn hands on her. And Luther could only press his into the wall behind him as his legs threatened to collapse beneath him. 

He stayed there even as Grace took Allison away. Even as their father stormed off. He hadn’t saved her. _He hadn’t saved her._

The world became quite clear then. 

Reginald had to go. Their father was the enemy in Luther’s eyes now. No more hesitation, no more thought. Luther had turned. Completely for her. Luther could no longer see a world with both their father and him in it. Not after what he had done. Allison did not deserve to see the man live. So Luther would make sure she didn’t have to. 

“Luther, what happened?” Ben got his attention and pulled him away from where he had pressed himself against the wall. 

“Dad, he-” 

“Did exactly what we knew he’d do,” Five snapped. 

“Five, not the time,” Diego muttered. 

“I’m right, you know I am,” Five forced himself to lower his voice. “And now Allison is-” 

“Locked up,” Vanya said quietly. 

“What do you think dad is gonna do?” Klaus spoke up. “Should we start planning a jailbreak?” 

“I don’t know.” Luther spoke with more confidence, “we won’t be able to help her until dad is dead.” 

A chilled silence fell over the room. None of them had expected Luther to turn so quickly. All of them now realized that despite their brother’s faults, he truly loved Allison more than he respected their father. That distinction of us vs them that had kept Luther divided from his siblings faded under the realization that Luther was with them. That unwavering loyalty fell to Allison, and therefore all of them. 

“Luther, you’re strong enough to stop dad, but will you be able to?” Ben asked. 

“What do you mean?” Luther blustered. 

“Luther, you didn’t do anything. You froze up,” Diego said not unkindly. It was the closest thing to courtesy between the two of them. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” betrayal still rose up inside of Luther. He was furious and shaken deeply. His faith up until this point had been shattered. 

“With what?” Klaus asked. 

“What?” Diego frowned. 

“What’re we gonna use to kill dad?” Klaus repeated. 

It was a dark, but valid question. 

“What’re we gonna do with the body?” Vanya added quietly. 

“Who cares? We have to save her!” Luther snapped, all heart and no head. 

“This is not the time for you to be impulsive and screw everything up,” Diego shot back. 

“How do you think the press will feel when millionaire father winds up mysteriously murdered at home with his seven superpowered children?” Five said. 

None of them had planned this far ahead. 

“Dad isn’t exactly young,” Vanya spoke. “How hard is it to make a murder look like a heart attack or something?” 

Silence from the others. 

“Come on, you all are the trained killers, how do we make a murder look natural?” Vanya repeated. 

“Well, an air bubble in the bloodstream,” Five offered. “But that would require precision and time. And we’d have to get dad down first. If that leaves bruising on the body, that would be enough probable cause for the cops.” 

“We still need Allison then. She’s the only one who can get him down without a struggle,” Klaus said. 

“Except dad has her locked up in the basement,” Vanya said gloomily. 

“Where?” Ben asked. 

Vanya frowned, “probably way down in the sub basement.” 

“We have a sub basement?” Klaus asked bewilderedly. “How do you know about that?” 

“I’m not sure,” Vanya seemed lost in thought. “I feel like I went down there. Maybe to help dad with something? It’s all kinda fuzzy. Dark room and… I don’t know,” she shook her head. 

“Creepy,” Klaus shook his head. 

“Do you think we could get back down there?” Luther pushed. 

“Maybe,” Vanya was reluctant. 

“We need to plan more,” Ben said. “We can’t just bust her out and hope we can stop him.” He paused. “We don’t know what our father is capable of.” 

“I’ll kill him. With my bare hands if I have to,” Luther said. 

“God, Luther,” Five rolled his eyes. “Are you really that arrogant? You don’t know anything about how to do this. How to deal with him safely. There are worse consequences than just being sent to the basement for the night.” 

“As if you know anything about that,” Klaus scoffed. “Maybe you’re not one of dad’s favorites, but you don’t know what it’s like. When dad hates you, actually _hates_ you, you have no idea...” 

“Oh, because you know all about it?” Luther added dryly. “It’s so bad for you that you gotta shoot up and stay high just to bear it?” 

Klaus turned to his other brother, “okay, first off, I don’t ‘shoot up’. Second: You have no right to talk shit about any of this. You’re daddy’s _favorite_.” 

“Yeah, and he’s so selfish about it he’s ready to throw it all away and murder the man,” Diego scoffed. 

“I didn’t see you volunteering to fix things,” Luther snarled. Tension was rising. It was far from unlikely that a fight would break out soon. Likely between Luther and Diego. 

“As if you can,” Diego was on his feet. “You’ve done nothing to help so far. You stood there when Allison was dragged off and you’re still under daddy’s thumb. You’re all talk, Luther. As always everything you say means nothing.” 

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Luther’s face was flushing red. “You don’t know anything about me. Or what’s happened between me and dad. How can you expect me to just stop him-” 

“Then why do you keep saying it?” Five butted in. “You act so confident that you can take him on, but you didn’t, Luther.” 

“Stay out of this,” Luther snapped. 

“You’re not the leader anymore, number one,” Diego said mockingly. “Daddy isn’t here to make us pretend to care about your _orders_.” 

“As if any of you would know what to do in a fight without me-” 

“Like you would know,” Diego said. “You’re too busy with your own pathetic image and ego to notice anything going on with the rest of us!” 

“Stop pushing me, Diego,” Luther spoke warningly. 

“What’re you gonna do, Luther?” Diego was closer to his brother now. “You gonna kill me like you’re gonna kill the old man? Or is this all just talk too?” 

Luther was growing more careless and moved on to mocking his brother, “I don’t know D-D-Diego, are you gonna tattle to mom if I do something?” 

“Shut up,” Vanya said quietly. 

“What?” Luther wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. 

“I said shut up,” Vanya spoke up. Not loud, per say, but from Vanya it was like shouting. “All of you! You just- You’re all so-” She let out a half-scream of aggravation. At which point she stood up and stormed out of the living room, leaving her brothers to stare at each other with wide eyes. 

“What the fuck?” Klaus mouthed at Ben across from him. 

“You guys were sort of acting like jackasses,” Ben shrugged. 

“So fix it,” Luther said. 

“Oh no, that’s your guys’s problem,” Ben leaned back, hands raised to detach himself from his brothers’ mess. 

Diego, Five, and Klaus all stared at Luther. 

“ _I’m_ not going to talk to her,” Luther sputtered. 

“You’re the one who thinks we need to ‘fix it’, so go talk to her,” Klaus said pointedly. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” Luther mumbled, but he was his father’s son; not in like personality, but simply as the man had groomed him to fall under pressure immediately, as such he got up and started walking after the sister he was hopeless to understand. 

Vanya had crossed the hall and now sat on the back stairs up to their bedrooms. Luther was jarred by the sight of puffy red eyes and wet cheeks. A curious form of sour nausea hit him. Something like guilt. 

“You okay?” It was pathetic, but it was all he could think to say. 

Vanya’s response was a harsh laugh that startled Luther even more. This did not seem like the Vanya he knew. Although, which Vanya was that? Did he know her at all? 

“Can’t believe they sent _you_ of all people…” 

“Hey, what makes you think I was ‘sent’?” Luther grew defensive. Vanya gave him a look. 

“Yeah, sure, cause you came up with the idea to come over and talk to me,” Vanya said scathingly. She wasn’t wrong. 

Luther sat beside her. “Why are you so angry?” 

“You’re all so _stupid_ ,” Vanya hissed. 

“I’m gonna need a little more than that.” 

“We’re finally working together, I’m finally a part of things, but nothing’s changed. You all won’t stop _fighting_ ,” Vanya said. 

“I think they’re just scared,” Luther offered. 

Vanya gave him a look. 

“Okay, we’re all scared,” Luther paused. “I didn’t know.” 

“What?” 

“I didn’t see it, I didn’t know how bad it was. For all of you. I made so many excuses for him…” Luther felt properly ashamed. His empathy was finally extending beyond Allison and to the others in his family. 

“Who are you and what have you done with Luther?” Vanya said sarcastically. 

“Shut up, I’m trying to be real here,” Luther gave off an unsure smile, as if not quite knowing what was allowed between them now. 

“You’re really worried about her, aren’t you?” Vanya asked. 

“It hurts,” Luther said. “How scared I am right now. How scared I am _for_ her.” 

“I never thought you actually cared about anything,” Vanya admitted. 

“Really?” Luther was genuinely surprised. 

“Come on,” Vanya said. “When was the last time we had a proper conversation?” Luther didn’t have a reply. “Have you had a proper heart to heart with any of our siblings?” 

“Al-” 

“Besides Allison,” Vanya said. 

Luther paused, wishing up some way to defend himself. “Okay, fine. I haven’t. But how could I? They resent me enough without them knowing how _weak_ I am.” 

“Ever think that they resent you because dad always treated you better?” Vanya offered. 

Luther took a moment to think. “Maybe he did treat me better. But I needed him to. The moment he started treating me like I was a failure, it was like I couldn’t breathe anymore.” 

“Poor you,” Vanya said sarcastically. 

“Look, I know you have your reasons to be angry, but let me explain. I don’t know what it’s like for you, but none of you have ever questioned what it's like for me either,” Luther allowed him one final sense of pity. He had to do better, but none of his siblings understood it. “Being number one is terrifying sometimes. I feel like I am one mistake from something horrible happening. I don’t even know what it would be, but it’s like the next time dad says something bad to me I am going to die. It’s a physical feeling. And I know it isn’t that bad, Allison always tells me I’ll be okay, but somehow I still think that something bad is gonna happen if I fail.” 

“I’ve been alone for so long I don’t know what it’s like to be afraid of failing someone. I sort of already have by just existing,” Vanya shrugged. “Doesn’t phase me anymore. Guess that’s the one benefit of being number seven. I’ve got nothing to lose. Or be afraid of, I guess.” 

“You seem scared sometimes,” Luther said. When he thought of Vanya he thought of those bangs covering lowered eyes. A girl trying very hard to appear small. 

“Didn’t think that was something you’d notice,” Vanya said. Another moment of quiet between siblings who didn’t know what to do with each other. 

“What’re we gonna do?” Vanya said softly. 

She seemed scared in a different way now. Her eyes were not downcast, instead she stared ahead with a grim determination that Luther had never expected from her. 

“Right now I just wanna make sure Allison is okay,” Luther admitted. “I’m so angry and scared and maybe I wanna hurt dad but really I just want him to go away. To make sure that he doesn’t hurt anybody. But I also feel so hurt because I think I actually love him. It sounds like you guys don’t, but he really felt like, well, like a dad. Although I guess I have no idea what that’s actually supposed to be like.” 

“We’ll get Allison. Somehow I think we can only do this together,” Vanya said. “He’s just one man.” 

“Doesn’t feel that way in the moment,” Luther said. “I think he’s always been this scary, I just ignored it.” 

“Do you think dad will try and stop us? From getting Allison,” Vanya said. 

“If he finds out,” Luther said. “I don’t think he expects all of us to work together.” 

“I didn’t either,” Vanya said half teasingly. 

“So are you okay now?” Luther asked and bit his lip. 

“Yeah,” Vanya rolled her eyes. “I’m great.” 

“Come on, then. Show us where to find Allison,” Luther stood up and offered Vanya a hand. Vanya accepted. 

“Let’s see if the boys have any ideas on how to get dad on the ground,” Vanya said. 

“And then in the ground,” Luther added. 

“Luther, making jokes? What happened?” Vanya feigned shock. 

“Uh, our dad flipped out, got violent, and now I am terrified,” Luther said with little sarcasm now. 

“Ok killed the mood,” Vanya said. 

“You done having a meltdown?” Klaus called to Vanya upon their approach. 

“Shut up,” Diego said. Klaus stuck his tongue out at him. 

“I want to get Allison out,” Luther said. 

“Whoa, I thought you were more focused on taking down dad first?” Ben asked. 

“I want to make sure Allison is safe first,” Luther said. 

“And none of us will be safe unless we’re all together on this one,” Vanya added. 

“Okay, so we get to Allison first,” Five nodded. “How’re we gonna do that?” 

“Vanya shows us where to go, I break down the door,” Luther said. 

“Dad went storming off out of the house, to do who knows what, so hopefully we have a few hours,” Five peered out the front windows. 

“So, what, we get Allison out and just try this again?” Diego asked. 

“Except this time we’ll be there to protect her,” Ben said firmly. Luther’s newfound warmth for his siblings grew. 

“So, where are we going, Vanya?” Klaus stood and went up to his sister’s side. “Cause you know, apparently.” 

“Basement. There’s an elevator,” Vanya frowned, as if trying to remember something more. 

“Best not to wait around. Dad could be home any minute,” Five pushed. 

Vanya started walking. The others followed suit. An uneasy quiet following as well. None of them really knew how to talk to one another. At the back of the basement at the end of the hallway which also held Pogo’s bedroom there was an elevator. It was unsettling to find such a large secret unhidden in their own home. Curiosity was not encouraged outside of training. 

Six thirteen year olds crowded onto the elevator and Vanya remained at the front, wringing her hands in front of her. A strange echo of dread followed her just like the lost memories. Luther seemed equally anxious. Almost subconsciously he stepped forward, his shoulder just behind hers in some semblance of support. How things had changed in a day. God, they had told Luther and Allison about their plan that morning. 

The elevator stopped. 

The doors opened and no one moved. None of them had been here. Vanya had but that unknown was far more daunting. 

“Well, I’m sure Allison is having a lot of fun waiting on us,” Klaus said loudly before shouldering past his siblings and into the long waiting hallway. 

Luther’s stomach turned at the sight of the metal door waiting for them. Luther ran ahead to the thin window and pressed his face to the glass. Allison was curled back against the far wall, her head buried against her knees. Luther did not wait. He turned the wheel on the door furiously, Allison jerking to attention at the sound. The first sound she had heard in hours. Luther not only turned the lock, he tore the door from its hinges. None of them would be trapped there again. 

“Luther-” 

Before Allison could finish Luther had grabbed her into a hug. He held her close to his chest and one hand pressed her head closer to him while the other almost picked her up. 

“Didn’t think you guys would come,” Allison said softly. 

“How could I not?” Luther pulled away and cupped her cheeks. 

“Dad-” 

“Fuck dad. He hurt you,” Luther said. 

Allison looked shocked. What had happened to her brother? The words _fuck dad_ seemed impossible from her naive, anxious brother. 

“You’ve changed. It’s only been a few hours, right?” Allison laughed. 

“Actually it’s been six months. Dad has been dead for a while, we just forgot to come get you,” Klaus said sarcastically, breaking apart their absurdly cheesy moment. 

“Sadly it isn’t that easy,” Five said. “So we got to get back into a game plan.” 

“Nice to know we’re gonna take a minute to breathe,” Allison said dryly. 

“Plenty of time to breathe once we put dad in the ground,” Five said. 

“Keeping things light, number five?” Diego teased. 

Five ignored him and returned to Allison. “Do you think you can rumor dad if we’re there to protect you?” 

Allison hesitated. “Yes.” Then she turned to Vanya. “I remember something. It’s strange, kinda foggy.” 

“Yes?” Vanya grew excited. “I do too. Like I’ve been here before.” 

“I remember I rumored you,” Allison said. “Dad told me to, but we were so little I barely knew what I was doing. I told you you were just ordinary.” Allison frowned. “But why would I do that if you already knew…?” 

“But I didn’t,” Vanya said quietly. “I used to train with all of you. I don’t really remember it from when I was really little. And I just thought that I stopped because dad decided I didn’t have a power but maybe…” 

“Maybe you do. And I just made you forget,” Allison finished. 

“ _Dad_ made me forget,” Vanya said firmly. “But I don’t know what this means. What would my powers be? How have I not seen them by now?” 

“What’s different about you? To the rest of us,” Luther asked. 

“I mean I am totally isolated from all of you,” Vanya said gloomily. 

“Do you think dad made this room for you?” Klaus went up to the empty doorway left behind by Luther. “Why?” 

“We can ask dad before we kill him,” Diego offered. 

None of them were acknowledging the simple fact that one of them would have to put the old man down. None of them were truly ready to face that. 

“Miss Allison,” Pogo was shocked to see her once they returned to the basement. “I thought your father said-” 

“It doesn’t matter what he said,” Luther said sharply. “It wasn’t right.” 

Pogo frowned, deep in thought. “I don’t disagree, master Luther, but when your father returns…” 

“Pogo, we’re not letting him do this anymore,” Vanya said. “Are you going to side with him?” 

“You cannot ask me to choose between you,” Pogo said softly. A strange sadness was forming from the being who despite all his growth never learned to rebel. Pogo owed his master everything. His life, his mind. Hargreeve’s children, like all children, owed their father nothing. 

“So don’t get in our way,” Five said. If anything tipped Pogo off to something more sinister being planned, it was that. _Get in our way_. That implied action. And any action against their father was forbidden. 

“Please be careful,” Pogo pleaded not for them to stop, but to tread lightly. “He will not be forgiving.” 

“He doesn’t have to be,” Luther said. 

“Master Luther, I never imagined you would turn so angry,” Pogo said. 

“I don’t know how else to be right now,” Luther said. 

“When it comes down to it, Pogo, you’d protect us, right?” Vanya asked. 

“Of course,” Pogo said quietly. 

“Sorry Vanya, but you know that isn’t really true,” Klaus said. “Pogo hasn’t protected us. I’m sorry Pogo, you know we all love you, but… you’ve done nothing to help us. And we’re finally going to help ourselves. And each other.” 

“I won’t try to stop you,” Pogo was resigned. 

“You never have,” Diego said. Their bitterness was spreading. Pogo, who had only shown them love, was appearing to be part of the problem. Inaction was hated now. 

The waiting game was over. They would do this together. Allison would rumor their father down. Then one of them would kill him as inconspicuously as possible. Who was the more terrifying part than how. Who among the seven could take their father’s life?


	9. Grace.

Grace was created to do many things in the Hargreeves’ mansion. Laundry, cooking, bathing, caring. She was told to keep them alive. Keep them fed and functional. She was never told to hold them when they cried or turn on the hall light when the dark frightened them.

But what does it mean to be afraid? To have loved and lost? Is this that fear? 

She cares for her children. Therefore she loves them. But what does that mean? To care beyond requirement in a way that left her machinery malfunctioning for reasons that could not be explained. An _unknown error_. Was that what this was? An error? 

She’s just binary running metal, but how can ones and zeros explain why she has broken beyond… Beyond _what?_

This had to be fear. To see Klaus unconscious on the floor. The feeling when she knew he was breathing was surely relief. 

And worry came as her children began to stray from the path. The path their father had paved and programmed so carefully. They were nearly late to dinner. Why did that illicit fear? Such an intense, such a _human_ feeling, drawn up so easily now. She was changing. 

She didn’t snap, truly deviate, until the moment her creator screamed her name and she was frozen. 

She registered Allison. A hand over her mouth and her eyes too wide. She knew Luther was cowering against the wall. She also didn’t. Allison was not one to be silenced and Luther not one to be afraid. Her creator was one for anger, but never like this. 

“Grace, you will take number three downstairs. You will not uncover her mouth until she is out of earshot of me. You will lock her in the room and you will come back to me for instruction,” were her orders. That pushed her out of that frozen horror. An order was an order. That had yet to change. Even as she held her daughter tightly with one hand covering her mouth. 

“D-Dad-” Luther had never sounded more afraid. 

“You will hold your tongue, number one!” Hargreeves continued to rage, but Grace was busy with fulfilling her assigned task. Allison followed her mother willingly, all things considered. 

Grace let go of her the moment she could. 

“It’s okay, darling. You’re okay,” the words were automatic for Grace. She only hoped their designated influence, to comfort, would take effect. 

“Mom,” Allison spoke. Grace’s auditory processing detected no distress in Allison’s voice, but surely that was an error too. Just like the slight shake of her metal hands. 

“It’s okay, Allison. Nothing bad is going to happen to you,” Grace said the words with that same light tone of confidence that she favored. Her software registered it as statistically improbable. Something bad very well could, and likely would, happen to her. 

With inhuman strength Grace opened the metal door and led her daughter inside with human tenderness. “I’ll try and be back soon, dear,” Grace kissed her daughter’s forehead exactly like she would on a normal night. She wanted to stay. Yet Mr. Hargreeves had demanded she return for further instruction. 

Locking the door behind her felt impossible. Like the computer that was her brain was no longer truly controlling her limbs. She moved with the same mild mannered expression and elegant stride despite something inside her beyond design protested. 

“What else can I do for you, Mr. Hargreeves?” She asked as the man put on his coat. 

“Make sure none of them leave this house, but don’t talk with them either, they need to realize the consequences of their behavior,” he said with that same harsh tone that made her children’s heart rate rise. 

“Of course, sir, anything else?” She asked. 

“No. Dismissed,” the door slammed behind him. 

Somehow this was worse. She had no assigned task besides the standard household delegations. Her prompts instructed her to resume laundry. Other available tasks listed included make preparations for lunch, vacuum the living room, check the house for mess. 

She didn’t move. Remained literally quite frozen in the front entryway. Her children spoke carefully in the other room, but her orders were clear. She was not allowed to comfort them. Unable to bear simply watching from outside the room, she did leave. She returned to the laundry room and went through the mechanical motions of folding fabric. 

In her beyond human intelligence she could not have theorized what her children were doing. The reach of her monitoring systems did not extend to the sub basement where all seven of her children were together. She had no idea the danger they were planning to throw themselves into. Not until there was screaming. 

“The med bay. It should have syringes. If we’re really committing to that,” Ben offered. 

“I think we should,” Five said, as if that decided things. Still, the siblings had committed. They would commit this final act of violence carefully. Peacefully. 

Vanya was the one to grab the syringe. Hold it empty in a balled fist. The powerless now had a weapon. But she wasn’t powerless anymore, was she? 

“Wait, before we go,” Klaus spoke up. “Ben, come here.” 

Ben moved cautiously, unsure of what to expect from his brother after so much change between them. 

“Do you have any idea where the key is?” Klaus asked. 

“The key?” 

“To the thing,” Klaus referred to Ben’s torso. 

“Oh, the brace?” Ben frowned. “Maybe his study, I don’t know.” 

“None of us should be trapped anymore,” Klaus said firmly. “Five, can you go up there and look?” 

Five hesitated, then nodded. 

“If not, Luther- do you think you could get it off? Without hurting him?” Klaus asked. 

“I mean, I can try,” Luther sounded doubtful. 

Klaus started to lift up Ben’s shirt and Ben moved to snap at him but couldn’t bring himself to when his brother, despite that strange fog still just behind the eyes, touched him so carefully. Tenderness was precious in this house. A limited resource to be coveted. 

They all started when Five reappeared. “I got a bunch of them,” Five held a ring of keys. 

“Yeah! It’s on there,” Ben nodded, recognizing it. Still, there were dozens to try. Not to say they didn’t have the time. 

Allison cleared a spot on the surgical table and Ben hopped onto it, facing away from his siblings so they could work at the lock behind him. Aside from the occasional bickering over what key seemed most likely to work, it was quiet. Ben could hear the soft rattle of different keys pressing into the mechanism but none yielding results. 

His siblings all heard the slight click, but Ben felt it. He could _breathe_ again. His whole body relaxed as tender skin was finally relieved of the pain. The rest of the children could see that. The way Ben visibly melted as if a weight had finally been lifted. 

“Thanks,” Ben spoke softly, not even sure who it was meant for. “And now I’ll be able to help.” Ben jumped down with an energy that only came with freedom and the ability to expand his lungs all the way. “Shall we?” He headed for the stairs. 

Upstairs in the front hall they stood in a loose semicircle, waiting for that man to walk through the door. He could be gone for hours. Yet none of them could imagine settling anywhere else. 

When the door did open, sooner than any of them would have liked, it was silent. Allison frozen, but not exactly afraid. Until their father reached up to his ears. Earplugs. He had gone out in a rage and returned with earplugs. 

“I am not here to negotiate,” Hargreeves spoke in that same booming tone. Their father was tall, but skinny as a twig. It was that voice that set chills down their spines. “I expect you all to disperse and return to your assignments. Except for you, number three. You’ll go back downstairs. Any other insubordination and you will join her.” 

None of them moved. Their father seemed to tense as not a single one of his little soldiers bent to his will. Each of them had their own convictions. Convictions that were nailed in place by now. 

Ben is so tired. He didn’t know what it meant to die, he only knew how much it hurt to kill. And because of this he wouldn’t die young. The cost was the unknown in all of this. Ben had killed so many, so somehow dying was becoming vague to him. He only hoped it would stay that way. Ben stepped forward. 

“No,” Ben spoke firmly. He knew his father couldn’t hear him, but the man could certainly see his restrained little monster moving against him. 

Five is anger and stubborn ambition without 30 years to tire him of bloodlust. He pretends he’s not afraid but it’s harder to hide when you’re thirteen and desperate to win. He does not move, but he knows how to appear when he was needed. 

Diego’s ability to be cold was not the matter of pride he pretended it was. Diego was desperate for the love of a mother who he owed to his father. A fact he could never forgive. Yet his self imposed pariahcy has been stopped in its tracks by the very people he blamed for it. He was with his family. He would stay there. 

Klaus doesn’t think he’s suicidal, but each time he loses consciousness or starts to drift, each time they’re pushed into danger, he gets hopeful. And disappointed when he comes out the other side. He knows death too well as is but right now he wants to live. He would not let this man kill him anymore. 

Vanya finally isn’t alone. It isn’t what she expected. Things are not better and instead she would become a murderer. Maybe she and her siblings were more alike than she thought, because somehow she still didn’t think that was that bad. The syringe in her hand felt more like a tool than a weapon and she was ready to use it, the moment someone else got him on the ground. 

Allison had tried peace. Tried to manufacture it with her words. But maybe her voice was always made for violence. Her father had shut out her power, but he couldn’t stop her from using everything he had taught them against him. 

Luther had always been this helpless. It was easier to deny before, when violence was separated from his family by a wall. Until it wasn’t. So Luther acted. He didn’t think, he just moved. He saw his father raise a hand against Ben’s defiant actions and made sure it would not come down on his brother. 

“Luther!” Diego was shocked into motion by his rival curled on the floor, writhing in pain. His father had purchased a taser along with his earplugs. Diego always had a knife handy, and he lunged forward with a blade raised, but his hands were shaking instead of his voice and he couldn’t stab his father. He didn’t even get close enough for his father to retaliate. He was too afraid. And already ashamed for failing the family he was just learning to love. 

Klaus wasn’t sober. That surely was a justifiable excuse for why he decided that he, weak, scrawny, unarmed, should try and knock their father to the ground. 

Klaus released some mixture of a laugh and a sob after his limbs stopped twitching, his father had one arm around his neck now. 

“Number Six! Don’t you dare move,” Reginald shouted out as Ben’s skin began to react to his fear. “If you try and stop me, I swear Number Four won’t survive.” 

“I always was the disappointment, right dad?” Klaus didn’t care about himself enough to stop struggling. He wanted their father to lose more than he wanted to live. 

Five was behind their dad in an instant, but the man had stepped back the moment his son disappeared and Five fell six feet through empty air instead of onto his father’s back. 

“I warned you,” Reginald shook his head and let go of Klaus. Only to ensure he wasn’t touching the boy as he was shocked again. These tasers were not designed to stop 13 year old boys who barely weighed 120 pounds. Luther staggered to his feet while Klaus collapsed. 

“Do I need to instruct you all further?” Reginald snapped. “All of you will face consequences for this. Submit now before I ensure things are worse for you.” 

“Stop. Dad, you have to stop this,” Luther, mind foggy, heart racing, still thought he could plead with the man. 

“Number one, you’ve always been my favorite. I did my best to overlook your failures. I suppose I should’ve realized you were as disappointing as the rest of them,” Reginald said. “I will continue until you all learn your place.” 

Reginald yanked Five to his feet by his collar. “You’ve never listened to me, Number Five. I should’ve given harsher consequences, prevented this.” Five hit the ground next to Klaus, unexpected pain dragging him down, holding him there in a way he couldn’t teleport away from. 

“Stop it!” Allison fell to her knees, reaching for her brothers weakened and in pain. “Please, dad, just stop hurting them!” Pleading without a rumor. Because she knew their father had never exhibited mercy. 

“I hate you!” Vanya was all fury. She could barely breathe as this rage welled up inside of her. “You’ve tried to take everything from me!” As Vanya moved against her father, no plan, armed only with a needle, every window behind her father shattered. “Ben, you’ve got to let them go!” She turned to the only brother left standing. “Ben, you have to do this!” 

The front of Ben’s shirt was torn open and the room seemed to swell with a dozen more beings entering it. Hairs stood on end as that deeply inhuman, unearthly being crawled into their world at the bidding of their brother. 

Vanya let out a terrible scream and there was fear not of what Ben had done, but at what their father had done. Beside Vanya’s scream had been a bang. One that they were all familiar with but had never imagined inside of this house. 

Their father had shot Ben in the stomach. 

Ben collapsed, breathing raggedly, this pain extended beyond himself to the beings that now fled back into their host. 

Their mother now stood at the top of the stairs. 

Grace was never programmed for this. She is a medic. A caretaker. Home defense, maybe, but this is something else. Yet why did it feel _natural?_ To betray all she was designed for? For her kids? Because she loves them? She doesn’t even know what that _means_. 

She _does_ know how much force it takes to break Reginald Hargreeves’ neck. 

“Grace, take number six downstairs to the medical bay. Even if you can’t save him, we should be able to preserve the body for observation,” Reginald was convinced by the hysterical horror around him that he had won. 

Silence. If not for the gasping cries of Ben as blood began to pool around his stomach. 

“Grace, take number six downstairs,” Hargreeves spoke again. Never had his machine forgone an order. Never had she hesitated. None of the children would believe it, but just maybe the man sounded afraid. 

Grace hadn’t been alive enough to be trapped by this man and his manipulative words. To owe something to him like Pogo did or to be afraid like her children. She wasn’t even alive now, but she _felt_ something. Enough. 

Their mother had always moved as if in a dance. 

She didn’t now. That speed gave away the fact that she was far more than human. And far more dangerous. It was the strangest thing. So much planning and thought and fear had proceeded this moment and Grace performed it as if it were nothing more than a simple chore. Wringing out a wet towel. Twisting bone in a way it shouldn’t bend. The audible crack that caused them all to flinch. The thud of the body hitting the ground. 

Grace brushed her hands on her apron. Her tone was gentle and almost chastising, “well, this is quite the mess to clean up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grace. What an enigma.  
> A lot of her characterization in this and description was inspired by Detroit: Become Human, and this short little comic [here](https://tomato-bird.tumblr.com/post/172561217436/a-short-comic-story-about-biblical-angels-their). So I really recommend you look at that comic as well!


	10. Pogo.

Pogo has one day to make Reginald Hargreeve’s death look like an accident.

And no time to get over the shock of seeing every window at the front of the house shattered and Grace standing over his creator’s body, Klaus unconscious on the floor, and Ben bleeding on the ground. 

“Pogo- Please, you know we had to,” Allison pleaded. 

Pogo said nothing, merely stared. 

“Pogo?” Five asked. 

“Don’t touch him anymore,” Pogo said sharply as Luther moved closer to the body. “We have to work carefully about this.” 

Silence. Their leader was dead and now they all looked to him for direction. 

“Grace, what exactly did you do?” Pogo asked. 

“Initiated a cervical fracture,” Grace told him mildly. 

“A broken neck,” Pogo spoke softly. “We can work with that.” 

“What are you talking about?” Luther asked. 

“We need to get a rope around his neck. Get the right sort of bruising,” Pogo forced all emotion from his mind. He had to protect what he had left. “But don’t touch him,” Pogo repeated as they moved to help. “Only Grace can. She doesn’t have fingerprints. All of you need to stay calm. Luther- would you help me carry Ben downstairs please?” 

“We’re gonna drop him off the stairwell, aren’t we?” Five asked quietly. “Hang his body.” 

A pause. “Yes,” Pogo said. “And I believe Grace could also mimick his handwriting. For a note. We’ll just have her software analyze his research. I also will need one of you to go out and get a package for me in a few hours,” Pogo said. 

“Why?” Vanya asked. 

“I’ll need to have a friend make an ID for Grace. So she’ll legally be your mother and Mr. Hargreeve’s wife. It will take longer to get the other paperwork, get her into the system, but if the police ask for ID we’ll have it,” Pogo left, followed by Luther carrying Ben carefully while Grace carried the fresh corpse to the back stairwell. 

“What should we do?” Diego called after him. 

“Don’t cause any more damage,” was Pogo’s unnaturally sarcastic reply. Pogo would adapt, because his children needed him. They would crawl from the dark and stop the fate given to Reginald Hargreeves from following them into whatever future remained. A day was enough time to certify Reginald Hargreeve’s death, but not enough time to fix the damage the man had caused in life. 

_It has been a month since Ben [00.06] was wounded. He has recovered incredibly well physically. It seemed the bullet did not actually touch him, instead it was taken by the horror inside him. That alone seems to leave a greater emotional damage on the boy, although perhaps that more so has to do with the success of their plans. Cleanup was not as difficult as it seemed. There is now a brief gap in my notes, but that surely is understandable. Without Mr. Hargreeves, there is far more for me to take care of. I intend to work to remedy that now. Things are settling. Maybe the children will be able to find some peace._

“How are you feeling, Ben?” Pogo asked. It was strange to simply call the boy _Ben_. Not Number Six. Not master Ben. Formality was one of the first things to fall away. He also noted that Ben’s unmarred stomach did not mean there wasn’t any damage. 

“Fine,” Ben shrugged. 

“No pain?” Pogo pressed. 

“Not really…” Ben said. Pogo didn’t believe him. “It’s like they’re hiding inside of me. Trying to heal.” 

“And is that causing you any pain, Ben?” Pogo asked. 

“A bit. It’s more like uncomfortable. Like a stomachache,” Ben said. Pogo wasn’t sure he believed that either. 

“And how are you dealing with things other than that?” Pogo asked. 

Ben paused, lost in thought. “It was my idea. Did you know that?” 

Pogo contained his surprise. Of all of them… Ben was the most gentle. He had never been taken by this life. He only resented it. 

“I didn’t,” Pogo paused as Ben watched him, searching for a reaction. Pogo searched for words of comfort. “It was your idea, Ben. But you weighed the options most carefully. You only chose this because you had to, not just because it was an option.” 

Ben nodded slowly, taking in his words. “Thanks, Pogo,” he got down from the lab bench before heading upstairs. 

_Vanya [00.07] is the most changed. When I found the children and their father, all the front windows were shattered. Later, after the initial chaos, I asked her if she had been taking her medicine. She said in the past few days it had slipped her mind. And that she knew the truth. It took only a moment for her to connect the dots. She no longer takes her medicine. So far there haven’t been very many incidents. Her father had always said she was absolutely out of control, but I see a calmer side of her. A glass will break occasionally when her emotions get the better of her, but still I haven’t seen her this relaxed in so long. It seems that without a hand forcing her to do something she doesn’t want to, she is an incredibly poised and powerful young woman._

“Pogo, have you seen my new sweater?” Vanya leaned around the doorway of Pogo’s new bedroom, on the first floor now. The door to Reginald Hargreeve’s bedroom remained shut, sealed off from the rest of the house along with the study. 

“No, Vanya. I’m afraid I haven’t. Have you tried Klaus’s room?” Pogo said with an amused sort of smile. 

“Not yet, but good guess,” Vanya rolled her eyes, before pausing, looking to his desk. “What’re you working on?” That kind of curiosity was a new trait in Vanya. A question like that would be scrutinized, even punished, from number seven before. 

“Just recording some thoughts. Journaling,” Pogo told her. “I often write about you kids. Helps to keep me from worrying.” 

A moment of quiet. “Things are different now, aren’t they?” She leaned on the doorway, looking strange in a periwinkle shirt and jeans. Clothes were one of the first things to change. Particularly due to heavy insistence from Klaus and Allison. 

“Yes, I’d like to hope they are,” Pogo agreed. “You seem happier, Vanya.” 

She blushed at this without really knowing why. “I think I am,” she said. “It’s easier, feeling like there isn’t something missing anymore.” 

“I am proud of you, Vanya. The progress you’ve made learning control is more than any of us could have expected,” Pogo said. 

Vanya looked genuinely surprised. Praise was so foreign to her. Only now did Pogo feel he had the room to be aware of that tragedy. Praise would become more common now, especially because finally Vanya had siblings around her who would give it. 

_I am most worried about Klaus [00.04] due to his problems being not only emotional but physical due to his substance abuse. I asked Grace to help him with counseling, rehab. Grace has been an incredible help these past weeks. I forged the paperwork, Grace did the talking. Legally now, perhaps illegally would be more astute, Grace is not only human but also mother and widow. Still, Klaus is struggling. He is still spastic, but we all prefer that to the hollow daze that he had before. Despite the addiction he needs to overcome, Klaus is a light for his siblings. Without his humor, I don’t know how we would have survived the fears that came with removing Reginald from the house and protecting ourselves from the law. The ‘how’ of forging a suicide does not matter as much as the result. The house is safe, and physically the children are as well. Klaus is a testament to the fact that mentally things are still unsure. He makes us laugh, and he is all but sober now, still sometimes he seems to get far away. Ben particularly has tried to pull him back. They make quite the pair. Klaus hasn’t been close to anyone in the family. Not since their father began taking him to the mausoleum. I never thought I’d see him with this kind of belonging, even if it is difficult for him._

“Klaus!” Luther’s anger was usually not so loud. It was usually restrained, reliant on their father and an echo of the man as well. Now it was the anger of a child, because he could afford for it to be. “Give it back!” 

“Fine, take it!” Another shout and Pogo saw Klaus sprinting down the hall past his bedroom door with Luther’s new football clutched to his chest. 

Toys. There were _toys_ in this house now. Luther came running after him and instead of triumph Luther cried out in exasperation, “ _Five_ not you too!” 

At which point Klaus and Luther ran back after their other brother, who didn’t need to run at all. 

It was not just that Klaus was finally sobering, it was that his siblings were trying to help him recover instead of shunning him for it. That sort of reality didn’t exist to them before. Before Klaus was the weak one. The coward who had to numb himself, now his siblings wanted to protect him, as he had tried to do against the very man who had caused all that fear. 

“You look really pretty, Vanya,” Allison sat across from her sister on her bed, feeling a little guilty about the lipstick that would probably stain the sheets. 

“Yeah?” Vanya’s cheeks grew red under a little too much blush and she sunk back into Allison’s sweatshirt that was really Luther’s because Klaus was wearing the sweater she had been looking for. 

“Of course you do!” Allison teased. “Now you’ve got to do mine.” 

“I would’ve done a better job,” Klaus gave up the chase after Five to critique Allison’s makeup. 

“Shut up!” Allison threw a pillow at him. 

“I mean it’s not _bad_ ,” Klaus could not resist temptation and sat on the bed between them. “Let me.” 

Vanya closed her eyes and allowed Klaus to paint eyeshadow over them. It was still the strangest feeling, to be getting exactly what she had desperately craved for so long. Her siblings were talking to her. Spending time with her willingly. It was terrifyingly thrilling to have the makeup brush against her skin and to have her brother press a hand into her cheek to balance himself. Almost as thrilling as when after breakfast Allison threw her arms around her and exclaimed that she’d bought _makeup_. And she wanted Vanya to try it with her. 

_Allison [00.03] has been the most comfortable with change. Her sense of control seems to have returned and she’s moved beyond just remaining at Luther’s side. She’s been so kind to Vanya. I think she is responsible at least in part for Vanya’s newfound confidence. Allison has never been responsible for her own powers, and I do think that newfound freedom scares her a bit. She could have been so easily tempted to run wild with that strength, but I think our family has helped her. Given her a sense of duty not to Reginald, but to her siblings. They had put a faith in her when they had first planned to stop their father, and she took that personally. A sense of leadership has grown from her and Luther has followed her with his own sense of belonging._

“Ben?” 

“Yeah?” Ben seemed surprised to have Diego waiting for him upstairs. 

“Did Pogo give you the all clear?” Diego asked. 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t think I’m okay, apparently,” Ben scoffed. 

“What’d you mean?” Diego frowned, yet to lose his serious demeanor in a month. 

“Nothing, I’m fine, really, it’s just… strange now. And I mean it was really scary at the time, obviously,” Ben said. He paused. Diego gave him his time to put together words, a luxury Diego hadn’t been given before but now appreciated. “I thought I was gonna die.” 

Diego felt cold now, chilled by the truth but also by the fear given to his brother. Diego was never good with words, instead he pulled Ben close in a hug. The two of them so much shorter than their brothers, but evenly matched between them as Ben hugged back. Ben was alive. And none of them would never have to know otherwise. 

“This is weird,” Ben said softly. 

“Yeah,” Diego laughed, pulling back. “Seems more like Klaus’s schtick to be all touchy-feely.” 

“But… thanks,” Ben said. 

“I think we’re all glad you’re not dead,” Diego said. “Now come on. We’ve been tormenting Luther.” 

“Without me?” Ben teased, allowing himself to be pulled down the hall. 

_Diego [00.02] has shown a different side of himself. He no longer seems to resent his family. Something I never thought I’d live to see. He and Luther still bicker and rough house far too much, but it seems more like an act of play than violence. They seem to actually love each other as brothers now. After so long of being built as enemies, I never thought I’d see Diego tackle Luther to the ground and have it end in laughter instead of blood. Diego hasn’t stuttered since their father died. Not even when the police came asking questions. It seems his father was responsible for that fear, and now that he is gone it will not evolve beyond that anxiety. Diego has grown into a compassionate young man, more concerned with his siblings’ welfare than fear of how he looks or stands in their father’s eyes. No one talks about their numbers anymore. It’s become almost taboo, to refer to Diego as number 2 or Luther as number 1. I suppose I should stop doing the same in my notes. It is a habit, from before they even had names. Tiny little things toddling around this big house without names. It is a relief to see the numbers die ._

“Luther!” Five actually shrieked when Luther tackled him to the ground the moment he made the mistake of appearing just a little too close. 

“Hah! Try and get away now!” Luther said, holding his scrawnier brother in a bearhug. Ben and Diego ran into the room, where Diego cackled at the sight of them, doubling over as Luther threw Five over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Aren’t you going to help me?!” Five asked incredulously. 

“Nah,” Ben said. 

“Come on, I gotta get Klaus. He’s a part of this too,” Luther marched past them, carrying Five like he was just the football. 

“What’re you actually gonna _do?_ ” Ben chased after him. 

“So you’re not putting me down?” Five said, he had stopped struggling. 

“Nope,” Luther said pompously. 

“Fine, your mistake,” Five shrugged. And then both he and Luther were gone and from down the hall they heard Luther scream. Followed by a thud. 

“You deserve that!” Diego teased, both of their brothers lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Five’s plan failed in the fact that Luther had landed on top of him. 

_I never thought I would see Five become playful and mischievous. That boy has been so serious and driven since before he could talk. So much so he decided names were beneath him. I suppose now I do not need to mark them by number in my notes, a habit I will have to break. Five deserves a name, and I wish he had been free enough to desire one, but maybe his name simply is Five. That suits him, even if it’s unorthodox. Five did not let go of his ambitions easily, he had a certain paranoia of his siblings that grew only worse when suddenly his siblings wanted to be friends. Grudgingly, Five has relaxed around his siblings, even if his drive has been somewhat dampened without their father to both oppose and push him. Time travel has been put on the backburner -thank god- and I hope we will be able to help him explore his abilities with the safetynet that none of us expect anything of him except for him to simply be. Five doesn’t know how to do that quite yet, but I think Ben and Vanya, and oddly enough his other brothers and sister, want to help him. And Five wants to connect with them too, even if it frightens him._

“What are you all _doing?_ ” Allison asked, leaning over the banister at the heap of brothers downstairs. 

Luther scrambled to his feet, growing embarrassed, Five remained lying flat on the ground, defeated by his brother absolutely squashing him. 

“Nothing,” Luther said, the football lying abandoned on the carpet. 

“As _if_ ,” Klaus mocked. “Allison, can’t you keep Luther in check? He’s always causing trouble.” 

_Luther is an incredibly shy boy. He always has been, but he no longer compensates for it with aggression or superiority. Luther’s dependency on Allison could have gotten much worse without that shared dependency on their father, but instead his search for approval has extended to the rest of his siblings in healthier doses. Luther has yet to gain proper autonomy for himself, but I feel that is true for all the children. They are so reliant on their assigned identities that building their own, discovering what that may be, is a difficult task. Even as they expand from their father’s rules, they remained confined. Luther getting a football, Allison makeup, Vanya sweaters and long sleeves, they are barely treading outside of labels. Except for Klaus of course, but he has always been that way, much to Reginald’s irritation. Luther’s ability to play with his siblings and to be embarrassed by them without anger is still an incredible progress in a month. I never could have imagined them getting this far._

“Hey, uh, mom?” Diego was the one to ask, even if it had been Luther’s idea. This being Luther’s idea was revolutionary in itself. For Luther to have an original idea, one motivated by fun. “Could we… could we go get donuts at Griddy’s later today?” 

Going to Griddy’s had always been terrifying. They would sneak out together and pray their father didn’t wake up. There was something about their father that was so intimidatingly all powerful that it was like he would somehow sense that his children were leaving the house in the dead of night. Yet it was also one of the only times that the seven of them were united in something. Even Vanya would follow to get donuts at 3 in the morning. 

And here they were, discussing in awkward tones about asking Grace if they were _allowed_ to go get donuts. On a Saturday afternoon. It didn’t feel real. To be willing to ask for things and think that maybe their parent would say yes. Diego was the most confident in Grace as their new guardian, although really Pogo was the one managing the Hargreeve’s estate. 

“Would you like me to take you all, Diego?” Grace asked, blinking quizzically. Her hesitation at the request was not about allowing them to go, but the concept of _we_. Was she to leave the house and chaperone them on this trip? 

“Well, you don’t have to,” Diego mumbled, uncertain now. 

“I would be happy to, Diego. It sounds like fun,” Grace brushed a hand through Diego’s hair tenderly. 

“So, we’re allowed to?” Diego blinked in surprise, despite speaking with such confidence before that mom would definitely take them. 

“Of course, dear. It’ll be a nice treat, but don’t expect you’ll be eating things like that all the time,” Grace said. “Let me finish up here, and then we’ll go, alright?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Diego was still a little stunned. “Thanks, mom.” 

He turned on his heel and hurried off to where the other six were waiting for news. 

“We’re going,” Diego announced it like a proclamation. 

“Really?” Luther asked. “She said we could?” 

“Yeah, actually, mom’s taking us,” Diego said. 

“Wait, mom is going out with us?” Five grew skeptical. 

“Why wouldn’t she?” Vanya pointed out. 

A pause as they all took in the fact that the barrier to something as simple as this was gone. 

_Without Grace I don’t know how I would have managed all this. The children need their mother, just as they needed her before, if not more so now. Grace has changed as well. She seems to think more. And she has never engaged with strangers like she has now. We need her to be our conduit to the rest of society, and so far she has performed most impressively. The children rely on her, but she has no more experience than I do. That is, I have very limited experience. I don’t know how to do this. I never imagined it would be like this at all. Mr. Hargreeves was just a man, but I think we all convinced ourselves he was an infallible being. I have thus far managed to keep Mr. Hargreeves’ estate together. He was a very private man, so most of his business ventures were through other parties or discreet. Still, even if I were to sell every bit of capital he owned we would never have to work to earn money. We’ll be okay. I initially thought this might well be the end of us, but somehow the police backed off. It helps when there are no fingerprints on the body and the handwriting of the victim was authentic in his suicide note. It would be a lie to say Grace and I are stable. Or that we were prepared for this, but we try and hold each other up. I only hope this peace will remain._

The children had not been outside during the day out of uniform, well, likely ever. Their late night escapades were always done in isolation and secrecy. Now they were walking down busy streets downtown towards Griddy’s donut shop. They had found the shop originally by chance. When they had snuck out through the alley and moved away from the front of the building, they had begun heading towards it. And it helped that it was the only vaguely interesting place open at midnight. Now this strange herd of children followed their mother down busy streets. 

Their masks and uniforms didn’t exactly hide their identities, and they were definitely an unusual and distinct little family, but they had never been seen in public or out of uniform, and Grace was equally unknown. No one stopped them or really cared much for them at all. So long ago they had moved in neat orderly lines, standing in a row perfect for photos for the media, now they were a messy cluster, vaguely staying near their mother. 

Their masks and uniforms had gone unused for weeks. Allison still liking skirts and Klaus liking them too, Luther hunting down a generic letterman’s jacket just like all the cool football players in the movies, Diego still liking black, and Ben’s hoodies mostly just saying he wanted to be comfortable. Vanya and Five remained the most conservative, both dressing a little bit like they were trying to look older. They had never had choices before and were running a bit wild with them now. Well, wild for their impossibly low standards. None of them had really registered how restrictive and alienating uniforms had been. An entire world of identity had been closed off to them. 

An unfamiliar man was at the counter in the middle of the day, and was surprised to have a party of eight come into his greasy diner. They all bought a donut except for the mother, whose hands were very cold when she handed over the money, the man noted. 

Grace was all too content to just simply sit and watch her children laugh and eat junk food, only stopping to scold Luther for making a mess. Even that was playful rather than chastising. Luther grew flustered but from the way Diego threw a balled up napkin at his head he knew not to take it to heart. As they walked back, Ben lagged behind, looking in at a bookstore with not so subtle longing. He was equally jarred when Grace offered that they should stop there. She again felt her circuitry respond strangely to the way his eyes lit up. Luther, Klaus, Diego, and Allison found this part less exciting. Allison and Luther combing through CDs while Klaus and Diego looked at board games. 

The last three of the seven found far more joy there. Five favoring nonfiction while Vanya was drawn towards mysteries -as well as a copy of _Carrie_ as that book truly spoke to her- and Ben was brushing the spine of every book in between. He didn’t care what he was reading, really. He just loved to consume words like it could somehow feed his soul buried beneath other beings. Sometimes Ben’s chest felt too crowded, but escapism was best found for him in pages. Whether to see another part of their world or hide in another, that settled something inside of him. Sometimes he convinced himself that the horrors liked books too. 

Despite the many limitations and confines placed on the children for the first thirteen years of their lives, money had never been an issue. And while they were sure to express gratitude to Grace for this impossible gift, they did not question how much the many books -and CDs- would cost between them. Grace did not worry either. She and Pogo both knew that they could spare enough to give the seven some sense of self. That’s what all this was, really. Making up for years of any sense of individuality kept underneath beds and buried in anxiety of whatever might happen if dad found out. 

“Pst, Luther, wake up,” Diego shook his adversary turned brother awake. 

“Wa’s happening?” Luther shot up, groggy and nervous immediately. “Mission?” Was his go-to question bathed in trepidation. 

Diego snorted, despite understanding that fear all too well. “Nope. Come on, we’re all going to the roof.” 

“ _Why?_ ” Luther asked. 

“Dunno. Klaus and Ben’s idea,” Diego rolled his eyes. “The girls and Five are already up there too.” 

“Why’re we up here, Klaus? It’s 2 am,” Five groaned, even though he’d had the easiest time getting up there. 

“Hey! It was Ben’s idea, actually,” Klaus pouted. 

The hatch opened once more and Luther and Diego joined them. A pile of blankets from Ben and Klaus’s bedrooms were laid out on the roof, the background noise of the city faint this high up. They had a collection of little battery powered lanterns encircling a monopoly board in the middle. 

“I did it for you,” Ben told Klaus under his breath, laying out the little game pieces carefully. 

Allison fiddled with a boombox which had also been carried upstairs, a stack of new CDs beside it. 

“I’d turn it down,” Vanya told her. 

“Why? Pogo sleeps on the first floor and mom doesn’t sleep at all,” Five pointed out. 

Vanya took a moment to remember that there were no consequences for them existing loudly, not really, and seemed to warm at the thought. Allison skipped through Tiffany’s self titled album that was older than they were before pausing on a relatively new favorite of her’s, _I think we’re alone now_. 

“Okay, then, Ben, why’re we up here?” Diego yawned. 

“I just thought it might be nice to occupy ourselves with something fun, y’know?” Ben said vaguely. 

“Yeah, like _sleep?_ ” Five said. 

“It’s ‘cause he thinks I’ll get tempted to climb out my window and look for trouble again,” Klaus explained. “I told him I’m _fine_. It’s just… annoying, I guess, to keep missing getting high.” 

A general understanding now passed through the group. 

“Alright, then,” Vanya spoke up, and it was still somehow a surprise when she did. “I call the tophat.” 

“Aw, I wanted the tophat,” Klaus sighed, grabbing the little metal boot instead. 

It took ten minutes of playing for things to devolve into bickering. It was childishness. Something they were aged enough to appreciate. 

“Y’know, monopoly was first created by Lizzie Maggie, an anti-monopoly and anticapitalist who created the game to show others the dangers of private businesses and american capitalism,” Five told them. 

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re losing,” Klaus stuck his tongue out at his brother. 

“I’m getting bored. It’s not as much fun watching Klaus take everything,” Luther said, reaching behind Allison to repeat the song. 

“So, how ‘bout I win?” Was Klaus’s solution. 

“I quit,” Vanya laid back on the roof, it cold to the touch, but comforting on a summer night. 

Allison flopped down beside her, their hair brushing together. 

The boys followed in suit. Not that there was much to look at, the light pollution left them only staring at a black sky and a sliver of moon. 

“How do you think we’ll know when we’ve won?” Vanya voiced a nagging thought aloud. “We didn’t beat dad when he died. Not really. So…” 

“When will we?” Diego finished her thought. 

They had no purpose now. No missions, no competition, no one they desperately needed the approval of. They still could only voice this strange listing inside of them. Just over a decade passed in their lives and yet they were having a midlife crisis. Children aren’t meant to feel this kind of loss, but the prerequisite to this emptiness should not have happened either. 

_Something on your mind_ from Karen Dalton’s album In My Own Time filled the silence. Klaus’s pick. More somber than the rest of their new collection. It felt right in this moment. 

“If we didn’t win when he stopped breathing, I don’t think we ever will,” Luther was the first to admit their shared fear. A weakness that meant more coming from him. After a moment, a weighted pause, Luther was surprised to feel Vanya’s hand clumsily intertwine with his. 

It only felt right for Luther to take Klaus’s hand, who in turn held onto Ben’s, who held onto Diego’s, and Diego took Five’s hand, who took Allison’s, who reached for Vanya. Vanya took it after a clumsy pause where she didn’t understand that Allison was reaching for _her_. She wanted her family and was wanted in turn. It was an echo of their future selves. The difference being Vanya was conscious and Ben alive, love without tragedy. Well, not the tragedy that might have been at least. 

“Why do we have to beat somebody?” Ben said. “I didn’t do this to win. Or to hurt anyone. I just wanted it to stop.” 

“We did what we had to,” Allison said. 

“We’re not gonna know when it’s finally over,” Five said, “how are we gonna know for sure?” 

“He’s dead, but we’re still a little messed up,” Diego offered his own gloomy input. 

“Who cares?” Klaus said. “It doesn’t _matter_ if we beat him. He can’t do anything to us anymore. That counts for something. Ben’s right. We didn’t need to win, we just needed to let ourselves be okay.” 

Quiet fell, with old music and sweaty palms filling the spaces in between. Fear was not waiting for them in the morning. Finally, there could be tenderness. Recovery would not come easily, but the days ahead would come with peace. It was something they owed to each other, not to the man who had never taught them to let go. They let go of him anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pogo's notes in this were inspired by the excerpts from his notes in the comics, which I found at the end of this post [here.](https://nerdqueenkatherine.tumblr.com/post/182964560090/fyumbrellaacademy-here-are-all-the-inside-covers)
> 
> This is the end, I'm afraid. The goal was to kill him, and he's dead. It simply is "the one where the kids decide to kill their dad before he can kill them", and it's over!
> 
> And with this last chapter of recovery, I know there wasn't much detail on how they got rid of the body and all that spicy stuff, but for me that didn't matter so much as them learning to live with it, and with each other.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and for your kind comments. I hope you enjoyed the journey!


End file.
